I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas. My fingers are Santa's little helpers. My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments. I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn. Sisyphus, sweating uphill. Bukowski, scribbling away in rooming houses. A river always flowing. I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
Friday, October 04, 2002
Ed Norton was just on Letterman. His goatee looked like hell-but funny guy-that Edward. My sympathies, though-to him...He once dated Courtney Love. I like her and all but she seems like she would be a handful to date. Baggage. He's always been cool in my book though, since Primal Fear. Fight Club, though? Whew. Good book/movie. One of those rare instances in which the film adaptation of a novel is equally as good-just in a different realm. Remind me to tell you when me and Ian punched each other in the face at Back Alley (bar). It's a funny, stupid story involving his broken nose and my black eye.
Today sucked. Bad. Not too horrible compared to everything you saw on TV tonight. But still a miasmic mess of major mundane shit packed together in the last twelve hours. Hmmmmm...can I do this? I'll try to give you a quick, non-boring version...
Need smoke first...
KNOCK KNOCK
-who's there?
NOT SELF CONTROL.
That was probably the stupidest thing I've ever written. Fuck. A ' knock knock ' joke?
I'm getting old and stupid. Duh. Listen to me. Oldandstupid. I'm slobbering...
God(s). I'm such a fucking distraction. I can't even smoke-which is a distractionary measure in itself-but-I always plan to SMOKE when my sick insides give me the nudge to do so and end up doing a couple of things ON THE WAY to the back or front yard, read while smoking, keep on reading the book, comic or whatever-nibble on something in the fridge, wash my hands or face, maybe brush my teeth, wake up the girlfriend,either accidentally or purposely-whatever. On and on and on. That's my life. Trying to do a bunch of things or really doing nothing at all.
2day? Woke up. Waited tables because I don't have a real job anymore. I am Jack's spoiled corporate brat gone wrong. It was slow. I made shit. Left. Bought my two newspapers. Comic book store. (sigh) I don't know how that happened. I used to collect them years ago and have started to buy them again sporadically. I haven't though in the last three weeks because I shouldn't and can't financially. I don't buy much anyway, cuz' I find most of it boring or a waste of money. I spent twenty bucks. I read too fast, though. Five minutes for every comic book=two or three bucks. Buy A beer, I say. Yet comic books ARE stories AND writing. So, maybe it's good for me. My screenplays are all ripped off from comic books anyway. HOME=Dawne ( My Girlfriend ) and trying to make the filter on the new turtle tank work. Not enough time for a nap. WORK=switching stations with Brandon so that I could stay later to make more money. All of the tables I would have gotten if I didn't decide to be 'Good"-Brandon had. He made a shit-load. All of the tables I had. All Six of them were old people and pissed off rich couples who gave me nothing. His Forty dollar tips compared to my Two dollar ones. I left. Bought a six-pack. Hung out with Dawne. Called back a couple of friends. Fucked around on this computer. Watched Ed Norton on Dave Letterman.
YUP.
Orgazmo's on...never seen it all, much to the astonishment of my friends. Just missed it, that's all.
The soundtrack has a song with SLAYER and ATARI TEENAGE RIOT, though.
And the Trey Parker and Matt Stone song too...
Enough. Goodbye.
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