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.
Monday, October 31, 2005
The Sad Thing Is...
That I think that I spend more time talking about other peoples relationships or just philosophizing in general about the nature of the beast than actually spending time with my significant other.
It's kind of like being a sign-language teacher and not realizing that passing motorists are flipping you off on your way to work.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Thursday, October 27, 2005
My Ancestors Would Be Proud...
I hate being busy. I hate doing things. I hate going in public places. I hate being around people. I don't like to do things that're proposed to me by others. I'd rather slowly stir those things around and see how I feel about them later. I feel like I've done it all before, I know what to expect and that nothing is new to me.
I don't like to exercise, walk, hike or go to the gym. I hate the mall. I hate to shop and would rather not go than to just look around. I hate parking lots and hate how people drive. I hate the internal combustion engine. I hate loud noises. I hate car horns. I hate screeching. I hate wailing sirens and people yelling out, "Fuck You's!" to each other as they accelerate away.
I don't like working. I hate stifling sparks of creativity and, if you're lucky, making do with scribbling down that amazing idea on a nearby scrap of paper and cramming it into your pocket because you can't write more about it at work. I hate rules. I hate the hot smell of paper that comes out of the copier. I hate file cabinets. I hate food. I hate tips. I hate cranky, ass old people. I hate people in a hurry. I hate fat guts. I hate having too many options when I call customer service. I hate that the same woman's recorded voice is on the phone regardless of what department I call because it's just like seeing the same commercial on the TV every single time you turn it on.
I hate. I'm unmotivated. I'm lazy. I have no drive. No will. No discipline. I hate.
Yes, I do.
But I love this post. Yes. I love it. And I love this Coca-Cola over here to my right. I love that I just wasted 17 minutes doing something that I shouldn't be doing and that nobody can take that time back from me because I've already spent it.
I love it.
Monday, October 24, 2005
And His Brother Gandalf...
Dude. Full on just saw a guy's paperwork and his name is...Merlin.
Fucking Merlin.
He's married too.
Can you imagine being married to Merlin?
What's their house look like?
Does he ever get ID'd at Rennaisance Fairs? Or maybe Medieval Times?
Merlin. So awesome. Or so mean, I don't know.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Richard Fell...
I think that the ankle's not broken
but my drunken, youthful exhuberance is
my confidence in this body is as brittle as my bones
I am now strapped to this computer
yet, I am told by my girlfriend that
we are having friends over for dinner
X-rays tomorrow
my underarms are already sore from the crutches
I feel like Mr. Glass fron Unbreakable.
I feel like Mr. Stupid-Head from October 2005.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
No More Vodka Redbulls For me...
The cement fairies must've poured cement in my ears while I was sleeping last night. I can't even focus. Let alone put together sentences - but I'll try...
Saw a friend at my girlfriend's work yesterday as he was picking something up to go. He said that he was buckling down and training at a mortgage company. Kind of surprising to me considering how arty he is. I started to tell him about the new, other thing that I've been doing when I'm not serving and bartending. We talked about both getting older and needing real jobs and more money, blah blah blah. After he left, I thought about how boring our two new jobs sounded. How old and unoriginal - but totally necessary. Especially for two college dropouts. I started to think about what some of my other friends were doing too. Mutual funds. English teacher. Graphic design. Commercial insurance. Printing. Legal video documentation. Flight attendant. Fed Ex. Bartenders. Servers. Bouncers. Boring.
I tried to be good and think harder. Surely some of my friends must be doing unique and wondrous things? Okay. We had one commercial jet pilot. Ummm...a couple of people in pretty popular bands, all right. Uhhh...nothing else?
No porn stars? No gourmet chefs with popular daytime TV series? No comic book artists, no founders of cults, no dolphin trainers?
What happened? Am I forgetting some of my friend's interesting jobs? Does a friend of mine having an interesting job, somehow, in a way, validate my mundane existence? Does our being in our late twenties, stuck somewhere in the thirties or maybe passing forty years old pretty much make us old? Does this mean that this is it? Get a job, even if it's boring because the relationship, starving child's mouth or empty wallet demand it? Is an interesting life sometimes defined by what one does when out of the workplace or when one has the time to be themselves?
Do I only exist off the clock?
My head is mushy. My skin is hot. My left butt cheek aches, for whatever reason - I don't know, and my eyes aren't focusing well. I think it's time to put my brain to bed and to get through the next 2 hours and 12 minutes.
Then it's time to go home.
After the comic book store, of course. Ha. I'm a nerd.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Palm Trees On Fire Smell Like Smog...
This lightning's burning them up out here
Power went out
and I just sat here in the darkness
not knowing what to do
A man in a tie
sold me an art set for ten dollars
and told me that it was just hailing
The power went back on
and then I got sad
the lights now seemed brighter than before
and I missed the darkness
I want more lightning now
I want the L.A. Riots in O.C.
I want Palm trees on fire that smell like smog
I want to type BLARGH
Friday, October 14, 2005
My Brain Is Dying...
After work I went to the corner store to buy a six pack of Coke. Minutes after that, on the way home I stopped at the gas station. I came home and realized as I was putting them away that I BOUGHT TWO six-packs and didn't even realize it. I got nothing else. What the hell is happening to me? I'm like Charlie from Flowers For Algernon. After the operation, when he starts to become retarded again. Except, I guess in my case - I was always dumb and now I'm just getting dumber.
I think this beats the time when I was at the front door and trying to find my house keys and then realized that they were still in my car while the car was running.
doi
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Monday, October 10, 2005
Excerpt from a Speech by Bill Watterson @
Kenyon College, Gambier Ohio, to the 1990 graduating class.
"It's surprising how hard we'll work when the work is done just for ourselves. And with all due respect to John Stuart Mill, maybe utilitarianism is overrated. If I've learned one thing from being a cartoonist, it's how important playing is to creativity and happiness. My job is essentially to come up with 365 ideas a year.
If you ever want to find out just how uninteresting you really are, get a job where the quality and frequency of your thoughts determine your livelihood. I've found that the only way I can keep writing every day, year after year, is to let my mind wander into new territories. To do that, I've had to cultivate a kind of mental playfulness.
We're not really taught how to recreate constructively. We need to do more than find diversions; we need to restore and expand ourselves. Our idea of relaxing is all too often to plop down in front of the television set and let its pandering idiocy liquefy our brains. Shutting off the thought process is not rejuvenating; the mind is like a car battery-it recharges by running.
You may be surprised to find how quickly daily routine and the demands of "just getting by: absorb your waking hours. You may be surprised to find how quickly you start to see your politics and religion become matters of habit rather than thought and inquiry. You may be surprised to find how quickly you start to see your life in terms of other people's expectations rather than issues. You may be surprised to find out how quickly reading a good book sounds like a luxury."
At school, new ideas are thrust at you every day. Out in the world, you'll have to find the inner motivation to search for new ideas on your own. With any luck at all, you'll never need to take an idea and squeeze a punchline out of it, but as bright, creative people, you'll be called upon to generate ideas and solutions all your lives. Letting your mind play is the best way to solve problems.
For me, it's been liberating to put myself in the mind of a fictitious six year-old each day, and rediscover my own curiosity. I've been amazed at how one ideas leads to others if I allow my mind to play and wander. I know a lot about dinosaurs now, and the information has helped me out of quite a few deadlines.
A playful mind is inquisitive, and learning is fun. If you indulge your natural curiosity and retain a sense of fun in new experience, I think you'll find it functions as a sort of shock absorber for the bumpy road ahead.
So, what's it like in the real world? Well, the food is better, but beyond that, I don't recommend it.
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Off the top of my head...
even though i love alec empire - when he talks all of his revolutionary/german political stuff - I'm at a loss. He's just too vague. But he rocks. Kind of like Elvis Presley and Hitler beating the shit out of each other while one sings and the other yells at the top of his lungs.
this is the first time that I've worn a sweater in a long, long time. I'm happy about this, but I should feel a lot cooler than I feel right now, because i feel like a dork. I wanted to wear something dark, scary, fashionably wrong or just plain boring - but sitting here looking like I do - just makes me feel like I'm an older boy writing a bunch of shit on a computer while the girlfriend gets ready. But I do have my fingernails painted - so maybe I'm not that old - just kind of retarded.
read warren ellis' Fell and/or Desolation Jones comic books. do it.
man, i love those nights when nothing's really happening and then you return the phone calls of a couple of friends (something that I'm trying to do w/ more regularity) and then it just turns into a whole shashed bang job of getting straight-pissed and then you wake up all head-thudded and w/ a friend on the couch asleep and then you take him home and remember that you have pictures of him putting his balls into Michelle's really expensive, fancy heels in your camera. this was w/ her permission, of course.
durka durka! what movie is that quote from?
my back still hurts from lifting a box of comic books last week
i dread bartending tomorrow night
my girlfriend is taking TWO hours to get ready and by the time that we arrive at the bar - it will be late. I'll have four drinks combined w/ the million that I'm having right now, and then when the bar closes and she's ready to pass out due to her two total drinks - I'll want to keep on going. This will cause some drunken strife. She'll also be up at 8 in the morning and I will be squealing like a freshly-shucked newborn from the vagina of a sweaty mother. I will regret that last sentence tomorrow morning when I re-remember it.
i like dean martin. much. not as much as drinking, but much. those last two words sounded like I was saying BUTT MUNCH. If you had a BUTT MUNCH for LUNCH then it would be a BUTT MUNCH LUNCH.
I need to stop this before Blogger eats it, and I do too.
get bloody pissed tonight, folks.
for me. just don't beat anybody up.
Friday, October 07, 2005
Bloc Party...
April (friend, not the month) had left. I started to watch The Peter Jennings Collection: Disc 1 with the girlfriend, who, of course, fell asleep. Right when we we're getting to the special report on Ecstasy and on the report about the history of the L.A.P.D. too! I bet when the Martians land and I have documented proof to show her on DVD - Sleeping Beauty'll miss that also, so no big deal.
Tony had flaked on me earlier. He was supposed to come over hours ago to pick up most of the old comic books of his that I was going to sell on eBay but never got really around to because I've got too many of mine that I'm trying to do the same to also.
Just a minute ago, Tom/friend and neighbor - scared the shit out of me while I was smoking in my backyard.
So. Mr. White Shirt Lead Guitarist Tony and Mr. Black Shirt Singer Tom are tonight's flake and boogeyman. I curse them. Watch them and curse them. Ask them to apologize while you watch this.
ENJOY...
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
From Far Away, They Sound Like Angels. But, The Closer I Get, The More They Sound Like Braking Trains...
tonight
I got hit
by another driver
when I was driving to the gas station
I hit my head against my window frame
but I've been hit harder than that
so it wasn't that big of a deal
after getting his info
I put all of the paperwork crap in my car
and then started to walk inside to buy beer
Gas for MY internal combustion engine
not for the Toyota
I heard a smack
the poor, stupid bastard
had backed up into a black SUV
a Japanese family spilled out of it
looking confused
I stood there
no way, I thought
no fucking way
this guy just hit another car?
I stood there
nobody paid attention to me
I went inside and got my beer
came back out
I stood there
asked if the family needed a witness to the accident
the wife nodded no slightly
I stood there
then shrugged my shoulders
and got back into my car
I drove away laughing
and could hear the guy
cursing into his cell phone as I left
I rubbed my head
put on my blinker
turned right
went straight
turned on my blinker
turned right
then parked in my driveway
I was smiling
as I searched for my housekeys
and started to giggle
as I got inside
I closed the door
still shaking my head
relieved
because
somewhere
no matter what
there is always
somebody
having
a worse day
than you
Monday, October 03, 2005
You Are My Sunshine - My Only Sunshine. You Make Me Want To Poke My Fingertips Into My Eyes Until I Reach The Knuckles...
Stupid Internet.
For the last couple of hours tonight, I have seen many beautiful things because of your technological and very fresh, content-friendly existence.
This is why I hate you.
My OCD and sick curiousity loves you.
But the shit that I should've been writing - wants to eat your entrails like a German does sausages.
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