Tue - December 2, 2003
Quotes
"No one saw it"
You know...yesterday's comment...well, it was a
quote man. I didn't say that.
Posted at 03:54 PM Read More
Mon - December
1, 2003
Ouch
"And in the end...you
make"
I'm so fucking sore I can't type. I know you think
I've stopped updating this. Not so much. I haven't stopped a lot of bad habits
I have. I have also been keeping track of how Cauldron edits his "stream of
consciousness" blog. Lamer.
But, all this moving and hauling and furniture making has fucking worn me out...almost enough not to do THIS...which is so damned artistic I couldn't pass it up...
"I appear to be falling in love with a lesbian playing boggle right next to me. Long curly black hair, huge eyes, and large lips. Yeah, it may be doomed, but that's never stopped me."
"I'm in the worst shape of my life."
"No. You're really not."
But, all this moving and hauling and furniture making has fucking worn me out...almost enough not to do THIS...which is so damned artistic I couldn't pass it up...
"I appear to be falling in love with a lesbian playing boggle right next to me. Long curly black hair, huge eyes, and large lips. Yeah, it may be doomed, but that's never stopped me."
"I'm in the worst shape of my life."
"No. You're really not."
Posted at 11:11 AM Read More
Sun - November 23, 2003
It ain't over yet
"and plus means and"
Late afternoon dreams about killing children with
piano wire and by crushing their chests with my foot. Turns out, I'm not
exactly up to describe it here. The little solar-plexis area just caved in and
they cried a lot. But, like I said, it is suddenly something I don't want to
document.
Guess there is a long way to go still.
Guess there is a long way to go still.
Posted at 05:28 PM Read More
Fri - November 21, 2003
Worlds
"It is a subset of a routine that
has roots in one circle, but overlaps the triangles and squares just-so as to
create a smaller set of things that eventually don't even share a single
point."
The more I think about life and things too big to
think about the more I realize that there are surely "worlds" that we create and
live within as we go through the years. I mean, we all develop as people,
adults I suppose, and build what we will be either proactively or reactively.
Ultimately it is the same beast.
I grew up watching my homicide-cop father breaking in my mother's face. I called the cops to stop him and watched authority come to mean nothing to me. Cops won't arrest another cop if they can avoid it. The badge means nothing to me but two faced bullshit.
I watched my mother drink alongside my father. He was self medicating his life away and she medicated to make it through his abuse and abandonment. Together they drank themselves into oblivion and fought and hated and neglected.
I was born with fetal alcohol poisoning. I have the migraines to remember those days now. Still, my sister (just four years older than I am) took care to make sure I lived through the seizures and that fun. Mom and dad were either fighting or drunk when I was in need of that care.
I grew up hating. Then I learned to forgive. I learned to be kind. I learned a lot. I also learned that I don't want anything to do with that world. Alcohol is a monster except in such minor cases that there is no redemption I'm willing to seek for it. People who come to depend on it are monsters too. They may be sad, or tragic, but they are still monsters. They have decided to take one ill in place of another. No, I am not so naive that I think anyone drinking is a monster. Get over yourself.
So, now I live in a world of no trust and I can still find the alcohol creeping behind the question marks. I live in a world where "stories" need to be corroborated. I live without knowing the few things that could be certainties. I don't want to live in that world.
I suppose it is a closed case, but I read Michael's blog and I realize that there is a lot that was left out when I learned what I did about his touching my life...in a round about way. But, there I find all the sadness and suicide talk and woe of the world; his world that is.
Part of me grows ignorantly tired of it all. (I say ignorant because I have only pieces of the story, yet that IS the context of such a blog) I am through wallowing in sad things. The world IS in your control and you CAN find a way to be happy. There is no reason to live like Michael seems to. I say that only as an example of what I don't intend to become.
Michael notes how dark things get and then talks of self medicating with margaritas and so on. There is a heavy dose of old fashioned bragging in there (oooooh look how sad he is...he drinks sooo much) but there is much more pathos. The rhetoric (admit it or not) is that Michael needs to hide THAT much from his world. I don't understand that at all. Why not just throw life away?
That is just it, I think. I have realized what I mean. The drama is presented like this. And, Michael is just a case study. I'm talking about the larger picture. But, the drama is such that the hero says "oooh, poor me" and then drinks him or herself into oblivion. The over-drama is that the same end is reached by going to bed. The same end of wasting away life and consciousness is reached by unplugging. Why do that? Am I supposed to be impressed? Why wouldn't any healthy person just say enough and leave.
There is absolutely nothing easy about living. No one thinks that. There is no easy fix to real problems. But, why choose to add a big dose of misery on top of it all? It seems a pathology deeper than any of the self stated ones.
Yeah, you guessed it. I'm talking about a lot of things here. But, I'm not talking about myself. Health has finally come to me and I am realizing that there is a place for those who choose to be joyful in life, who choose life itself. There is room to be glad that the sun came up and glad that the chilly air came back when it went back down.
I'm so fucking over people who are throwing away the most cherished or cherishable of all things.
I grew up watching my homicide-cop father breaking in my mother's face. I called the cops to stop him and watched authority come to mean nothing to me. Cops won't arrest another cop if they can avoid it. The badge means nothing to me but two faced bullshit.
I watched my mother drink alongside my father. He was self medicating his life away and she medicated to make it through his abuse and abandonment. Together they drank themselves into oblivion and fought and hated and neglected.
I was born with fetal alcohol poisoning. I have the migraines to remember those days now. Still, my sister (just four years older than I am) took care to make sure I lived through the seizures and that fun. Mom and dad were either fighting or drunk when I was in need of that care.
I grew up hating. Then I learned to forgive. I learned to be kind. I learned a lot. I also learned that I don't want anything to do with that world. Alcohol is a monster except in such minor cases that there is no redemption I'm willing to seek for it. People who come to depend on it are monsters too. They may be sad, or tragic, but they are still monsters. They have decided to take one ill in place of another. No, I am not so naive that I think anyone drinking is a monster. Get over yourself.
So, now I live in a world of no trust and I can still find the alcohol creeping behind the question marks. I live in a world where "stories" need to be corroborated. I live without knowing the few things that could be certainties. I don't want to live in that world.
I suppose it is a closed case, but I read Michael's blog and I realize that there is a lot that was left out when I learned what I did about his touching my life...in a round about way. But, there I find all the sadness and suicide talk and woe of the world; his world that is.
Part of me grows ignorantly tired of it all. (I say ignorant because I have only pieces of the story, yet that IS the context of such a blog) I am through wallowing in sad things. The world IS in your control and you CAN find a way to be happy. There is no reason to live like Michael seems to. I say that only as an example of what I don't intend to become.
Michael notes how dark things get and then talks of self medicating with margaritas and so on. There is a heavy dose of old fashioned bragging in there (oooooh look how sad he is...he drinks sooo much) but there is much more pathos. The rhetoric (admit it or not) is that Michael needs to hide THAT much from his world. I don't understand that at all. Why not just throw life away?
That is just it, I think. I have realized what I mean. The drama is presented like this. And, Michael is just a case study. I'm talking about the larger picture. But, the drama is such that the hero says "oooh, poor me" and then drinks him or herself into oblivion. The over-drama is that the same end is reached by going to bed. The same end of wasting away life and consciousness is reached by unplugging. Why do that? Am I supposed to be impressed? Why wouldn't any healthy person just say enough and leave.
There is absolutely nothing easy about living. No one thinks that. There is no easy fix to real problems. But, why choose to add a big dose of misery on top of it all? It seems a pathology deeper than any of the self stated ones.
Yeah, you guessed it. I'm talking about a lot of things here. But, I'm not talking about myself. Health has finally come to me and I am realizing that there is a place for those who choose to be joyful in life, who choose life itself. There is room to be glad that the sun came up and glad that the chilly air came back when it went back down.
I'm so fucking over people who are throwing away the most cherished or cherishable of all things.
Posted at 02:19 PM Read More
Time
Thu - November 20, 2003
Clie Clamshell
"Get it"
I ain't gonna say nothing more that hasn't been
said. You need a Clie. You need one now. I just realized that it is my
favourite new toy. I just upgraded my cell-phone and the functions it makes
possible with my Clie are endless. That and the WiFi funtime (beyond bluetooth)
is amazing. I got a free little RC car that runs off my cellphone...it can be
run by any bluetooth device (like the Romeo protocol). What a freaking load of
fun.
I still say cameras belong in cameras and phones in phones. But, this is a toy to be taken seriously. It won't replace my Archos video jukebox for multimedia and it won't replace my TiBook for real AV stuff...and it won't replace my iPod...
Wait a minute...what the HELL IS this good for? Oh yeah, it's a wonderiferous little handheld computer with a keyboard and full functions that aren't compromised by it being a Palm-type device.
I just love it. Go buy one.
I still say cameras belong in cameras and phones in phones. But, this is a toy to be taken seriously. It won't replace my Archos video jukebox for multimedia and it won't replace my TiBook for real AV stuff...and it won't replace my iPod...
Wait a minute...what the HELL IS this good for? Oh yeah, it's a wonderiferous little handheld computer with a keyboard and full functions that aren't compromised by it being a Palm-type device.
I just love it. Go buy one.
Posted at 11:27 AM Read More
Fleetwood Mac sucks without Peter Green
"I know what it is like to be
dead"
What a morning. The one thing that is interesting
in all of the excitement is that when you throw a big pile of shit up in the
air, you get a LOT of information coming out of it. Trouble is, when it lands
you can't always call it 'sorted' as much as 'sordid.' Sorry, didn't mean to
write that, it just happened. Like underwear made out of
hair.
So, the whole 'troll' posts are now a complete cycle. It is done. But, the story explodes with new intrigue and confusion. I mean, sitting in a pair of pants worn by a guy who has NO idea who to believe, I can honestly say that everything in the world points to a need for more of my world stewing in its own juices. Huh?
Let's go back and see just how fucked up my life is. Actually, no, let's not. Let me apologize to Michael and/or tell him he really IS an asshole. It is one or the other. I sincerely don't know which it is anymore. It really doesn't matter. That is the funniest thing.
By one account, Michael pushed for Janet to invite him back to her room. They are grown ups, what is the big deal? Well, Janet was supremely depressed and suicidal. She was in a " bad place" by any account. Asking her back to her room for cheap sex is just pathetic and horrific. Add to that Michael's knowledge of Janet's involvement with Ron and subsequently Ray (who completely took advantage of Janet in this same way...under the guises of friendship). The picture is ugly. To hear Janet tell it, she (her quoting Michael) "put him out in the cold with a hard-on"...sweet guy isn't he?
But, then I get the story from the other side. The "he said" version. In this version Janet invites Michael back to her room and he declines noting that she is really sad and not well. Michael makes a strong point of telling this story "upon coming in the door" when he gets home. Who did he tell this alibi, uh, explanation to? His girlfriend.
You can see where I'm going here. People lie. It is all lies. Truth is, none of this is true. Yet, there is a truth behind it. So, here goes the head-spinning wondering...
Why did Michael go so out of his way to pre-emptively clear that "Janet was odd" right after being with her. That suggest an action of guilty conscience. Further, why would Janet tell me this story of Michael asking her to take him to her room if that is the one thing that would surely raise hell in the relationship she is supposed to be devastated to lose? Why would Janet have such an elaborate version of her rejection of Michael? Might THAT be bullshit? Why would Michael send her his blog URL at the end of the night? Is he truly helping her deal with depression? Maybe so. There is nothing to suggest otherwise.
Thing is...again...someone's full of shit. Either my wife is just hiding (by telling me preemptively about it?!?) another affair or there is yet another sleazy fucker out there who'd screw a depressed woman with no regard for her well being.
Is it any wonder I am looking out for myself these days?
The worst part of all this is that Michael's girlfriend, Sony, got a face full of all this. THAT sincerely makes me feel bad. In the end, Michael, if you are the scumbag that you would be in one of the cases above, well, you don't deserve anyone kind or nice. You don't deserve Sony. But, there is no proof that you are the asshole she doesn't deserve.
It was put forth that there was no reason NOT to trust Michael and that I probably trust Janet. In the end, I trust no one. In an anarchic system, if a guy has guns you have to assume the worst. You can't allow that he is just doing it for self defense. You have to go get your own guns. Trouble is, then other people see your defensive guns...and, well, you're smart...you get it.
So, the whole 'troll' posts are now a complete cycle. It is done. But, the story explodes with new intrigue and confusion. I mean, sitting in a pair of pants worn by a guy who has NO idea who to believe, I can honestly say that everything in the world points to a need for more of my world stewing in its own juices. Huh?
Let's go back and see just how fucked up my life is. Actually, no, let's not. Let me apologize to Michael and/or tell him he really IS an asshole. It is one or the other. I sincerely don't know which it is anymore. It really doesn't matter. That is the funniest thing.
By one account, Michael pushed for Janet to invite him back to her room. They are grown ups, what is the big deal? Well, Janet was supremely depressed and suicidal. She was in a " bad place" by any account. Asking her back to her room for cheap sex is just pathetic and horrific. Add to that Michael's knowledge of Janet's involvement with Ron and subsequently Ray (who completely took advantage of Janet in this same way...under the guises of friendship). The picture is ugly. To hear Janet tell it, she (her quoting Michael) "put him out in the cold with a hard-on"...sweet guy isn't he?
But, then I get the story from the other side. The "he said" version. In this version Janet invites Michael back to her room and he declines noting that she is really sad and not well. Michael makes a strong point of telling this story "upon coming in the door" when he gets home. Who did he tell this alibi, uh, explanation to? His girlfriend.
You can see where I'm going here. People lie. It is all lies. Truth is, none of this is true. Yet, there is a truth behind it. So, here goes the head-spinning wondering...
Why did Michael go so out of his way to pre-emptively clear that "Janet was odd" right after being with her. That suggest an action of guilty conscience. Further, why would Janet tell me this story of Michael asking her to take him to her room if that is the one thing that would surely raise hell in the relationship she is supposed to be devastated to lose? Why would Janet have such an elaborate version of her rejection of Michael? Might THAT be bullshit? Why would Michael send her his blog URL at the end of the night? Is he truly helping her deal with depression? Maybe so. There is nothing to suggest otherwise.
Thing is...again...someone's full of shit. Either my wife is just hiding (by telling me preemptively about it?!?) another affair or there is yet another sleazy fucker out there who'd screw a depressed woman with no regard for her well being.
Is it any wonder I am looking out for myself these days?
The worst part of all this is that Michael's girlfriend, Sony, got a face full of all this. THAT sincerely makes me feel bad. In the end, Michael, if you are the scumbag that you would be in one of the cases above, well, you don't deserve anyone kind or nice. You don't deserve Sony. But, there is no proof that you are the asshole she doesn't deserve.
It was put forth that there was no reason NOT to trust Michael and that I probably trust Janet. In the end, I trust no one. In an anarchic system, if a guy has guns you have to assume the worst. You can't allow that he is just doing it for self defense. You have to go get your own guns. Trouble is, then other people see your defensive guns...and, well, you're smart...you get it.
Posted at 09:44 AM Read More
Slacks Marin
"One day aba-de bottom a-will
dropau."
Thursday night. Game night. Then to Ray and
Sophia's house. It is time.
I have been in need of a name for the guy who does dark things. Now I have several. Slacks likes games.
I have been in need of a name for the guy who does dark things. Now I have several. Slacks likes games.
Posted at 08:14 AM Read More
Broadcast
"It's a one to many relationship
beginning with something so small no one knows it wasn't there."
I'm thinking a lot about issues of privacy. I am
sure the thoughts come at least originally from the recent posting of this URL
and all the "troll" stuff that goes with it. Actually, no, it comes from Sony's
comments about someone being insane and telling everyone he works with about his
personal life.
See, the people I work with and who work for me are all my closest friends. I'd have a really hard time NOT letting these people into my life...especially given how my life is right now. I have known so many of these people for such a long time (some decades) and I have watched them live through terrible things and they have certainly carried me through a lot of the recent things. The more I think about it, the more urgent it is to me to have these relationships.
Now, that doesn't mean that everyone in the world is comfortable with spilling their guts about things like I have had going in my life lately. I mean, not everyone can throw around the cheating or the suicide or the...wait...did you see it? Yeah, the explanation is all there. I didn't cheat and I didn't do any number of things that spun out from that epicenter.
That's the real bitch of my life right now. The "shame" and humiliation of being in my shoes is unbelievable. I think it is actually what drives me to do shit like post this blog's many entries. I have lost a lot and had very little opportunity to do the things that lost me what I lost. I didn't get to sit naked in the hottub. I didn't get to fuck anyone else. I didn't get any of the stuff that has been thrown around and yet I am stewing in a funk of feeling weird everywhere I go.
My friends and associates who know Janet and me are all suddenly scary figures who may or may not understand. I don't have a forum to put up my side. I have made far too few waves to get the airtime to make my case. Shit, I haven't even really been allowed to be hurt in this. There isn't time with all the mopping up of other people's mess.
So, it takes me to this place. I'm living in a place where I bust the thing wide open and let everyone have a good look at it all. If my co-workers want to know why I am upset, I can say "my marriage is having troubles" and let it go. Then they can think any number of things. Usually it doesn't lay out what that means.
I once heard someone say they resented the simple term "HIV positive" to explain someone who was, well HIV positive. He said that the term sanitized the whole thing, that being HIV positive was a nightmare of incredible proportions.
Guess what? Hearing your wife say "we're in therapy" is pretty much a HUGE let down when what got you "there" is even partly like what I live.
So...come all and let's have anyone who wants a look take one. It is the only thing I have left. I have always needed my friends. I'm sorry that some of them "go to bat" in all the wrong ways. Shit, I do that too. I can't blame them for their intentions. They are just as half-baked as I am....and thank GOD for them.
See, the people I work with and who work for me are all my closest friends. I'd have a really hard time NOT letting these people into my life...especially given how my life is right now. I have known so many of these people for such a long time (some decades) and I have watched them live through terrible things and they have certainly carried me through a lot of the recent things. The more I think about it, the more urgent it is to me to have these relationships.
Now, that doesn't mean that everyone in the world is comfortable with spilling their guts about things like I have had going in my life lately. I mean, not everyone can throw around the cheating or the suicide or the...wait...did you see it? Yeah, the explanation is all there. I didn't cheat and I didn't do any number of things that spun out from that epicenter.
That's the real bitch of my life right now. The "shame" and humiliation of being in my shoes is unbelievable. I think it is actually what drives me to do shit like post this blog's many entries. I have lost a lot and had very little opportunity to do the things that lost me what I lost. I didn't get to sit naked in the hottub. I didn't get to fuck anyone else. I didn't get any of the stuff that has been thrown around and yet I am stewing in a funk of feeling weird everywhere I go.
My friends and associates who know Janet and me are all suddenly scary figures who may or may not understand. I don't have a forum to put up my side. I have made far too few waves to get the airtime to make my case. Shit, I haven't even really been allowed to be hurt in this. There isn't time with all the mopping up of other people's mess.
So, it takes me to this place. I'm living in a place where I bust the thing wide open and let everyone have a good look at it all. If my co-workers want to know why I am upset, I can say "my marriage is having troubles" and let it go. Then they can think any number of things. Usually it doesn't lay out what that means.
I once heard someone say they resented the simple term "HIV positive" to explain someone who was, well HIV positive. He said that the term sanitized the whole thing, that being HIV positive was a nightmare of incredible proportions.
Guess what? Hearing your wife say "we're in therapy" is pretty much a HUGE let down when what got you "there" is even partly like what I live.
So...come all and let's have anyone who wants a look take one. It is the only thing I have left. I have always needed my friends. I'm sorry that some of them "go to bat" in all the wrong ways. Shit, I do that too. I can't blame them for their intentions. They are just as half-baked as I am....and thank GOD for them.
Posted at 07:28 AM Read More
Wed - November 19, 2003
iPod
"Hard driving isn't anything like a
jackhammer"
God you gotta love the iPod. I mean, it has put
hero #3b back on the charts in a big way and given endless pleasure in the most
local of ways. Honourable mentions to the iPod use in the making of the Lord of
the Rings (TT)...they took all the dailies over sneakernet on an iPod in post
production. Then you have Robyn Hitchcock mentioning iPods in the show a few
days ago. How many heroes can you fit into one
episode?
My favourite thing (hoping it lands in America) has to be the iPod bus. They have these large monochromatic busses that drive around "ice cream man" style. If the iPod bus drives up to your street, you bring your iPod out and plug it in for some free tunes. It is a promotion to push the devices in Taiwan (I think) but it's make one hell of an ongoing buzz creator. Can you imagine if there were just these magic busses driving around giving out properly licensed tunes like that? I mean, lame FM stations still do the "flash your tits" Monday...why can't our world have some nice oddities in it?
Hey, 'member that time when I pre-ordered the iPod and no one knew what the hell it was gonna be? 'Member how I cut out the lame little piece of foamcore and carried it around and went on and on about how much it would hold and transfer times and all that lame stuff? 'Member how we all agreed that being a successful early adopter ONCE doesn't make you cool. Oh yeah. I forgot.
My favourite thing (hoping it lands in America) has to be the iPod bus. They have these large monochromatic busses that drive around "ice cream man" style. If the iPod bus drives up to your street, you bring your iPod out and plug it in for some free tunes. It is a promotion to push the devices in Taiwan (I think) but it's make one hell of an ongoing buzz creator. Can you imagine if there were just these magic busses driving around giving out properly licensed tunes like that? I mean, lame FM stations still do the "flash your tits" Monday...why can't our world have some nice oddities in it?
Hey, 'member that time when I pre-ordered the iPod and no one knew what the hell it was gonna be? 'Member how I cut out the lame little piece of foamcore and carried it around and went on and on about how much it would hold and transfer times and all that lame stuff? 'Member how we all agreed that being a successful early adopter ONCE doesn't make you cool. Oh yeah. I forgot.
Posted at 07:23 AM Read More
Locked doors
"Sleep, sleep, I know that I'm only
dreamin'. "
Last night I was scrambling for my sleeping bag that
was tossed on the sofa of the apartment I don't have. Matthew (the big do
nothing guy of old) had just arrived and climbed through the window. The window
detail was incredible in my dream. I can still see the wind-out mechanism and
the brushed aluminum frame that is so typical of a cheap apartment building.
Anyway, Matthew climbed in as the Lord of the Rings behind the scenes DVD was
ending. I explained that I was going to sleep at Lisa's house. He told me he
needed a place to sleep because Cassie (his wife) was angry with him and he was
moving out. I told him he could sleep on the couch, but what I meant was the
couch as Lisa's house. In the dream it WAS the couch I was just sleeping on in
my non-real apartment. I meant THAT couch. But I also meant that he would be
sleeping at Lisa's. "Crashing on the floor" as it
were.
The main emotional part to the dream was the leaving. I was in a panic to find my socks. I was looking for my keys and couldn't find them. I explained to Matthew that the keys I hadn't found would work at Lisa's house because she has no locks on her door. Therefore, the non-keys would work. In the dream it was as if I had found the non-set of keys. There was the finding event I mean, though there was no object found. Emotionally it was still a finding and then a reasoning that no keys must fit no locks...or all locks that aren't there. In terms of psychological placeholders, it was working in my dream.
We left my apartment but couldn't lock the doors or windows of the place as (again) I had no keys. We ran around the inside and locked every door from inside and then we were going to climb out the window when I woke up.
The main emotional part to the dream was the leaving. I was in a panic to find my socks. I was looking for my keys and couldn't find them. I explained to Matthew that the keys I hadn't found would work at Lisa's house because she has no locks on her door. Therefore, the non-keys would work. In the dream it was as if I had found the non-set of keys. There was the finding event I mean, though there was no object found. Emotionally it was still a finding and then a reasoning that no keys must fit no locks...or all locks that aren't there. In terms of psychological placeholders, it was working in my dream.
We left my apartment but couldn't lock the doors or windows of the place as (again) I had no keys. We ran around the inside and locked every door from inside and then we were going to climb out the window when I woke up.
Posted at 07:13 AM Read More
Tue - November 18, 2003
I'm not your fucking entertainment
"Stamped. Human
bacon."
Nice. Some asshole has taken it upon himself to
post messages as me to some chat forum. Hey, assholes, if you want a story or
you want to watch my car-crash life, just let it unfold on its own ok? It
doesn't need your goddam help.
FUCK.
FUCK.
Posted at 01:46 PM Read More
Famous
"Gonna be big as a barn and everyone
will sing along..."
Went to see Robyn Hitchcock with my daughter last
night. Wore the same Syd Barrett T-shirt I have worn to every single Robyn
Hitchcock show I have ever seen. It has a big tear up the side where it burned
when I heat set the ink in my basement about a million years
ago.
I was sitting with my daughter and a man behind me asked if I got my Tshirt from "that Anderson Council" thing. He said he had something to do with one of the newsletters a couple years back. Went on to say, "yeah, something about Inky Fingers in Berkeley. Those guys." He mentioned he wore the very same t-shirt a few days before, but tonight had chosen to wear his Pink Floyd tshirt. I told him I thought I had heard of Inky Fingers and the Anderson Council.
A little time passed and the man behind me asked again if I knew where my t-shirt came from. He wanted to talk about shows he had seen. He wanted to talk bootlegs. He was boring the HELL out of me and distracting me while I was trying to enjoy dinner with my kid before seeing my hero. I was sitting there thinking how odd it is to sit next to someone who knew my "work" ten years ago. He remembered it. It had somehow touched his stupid life. He wore my tshirt a few days ago and had an immediate working knowledge of a newsletter that I published (ONCE!) and a memory of a business that had been my whole life for a while.
There was this one guy back in the day who contributed quite a lot to the Anderson Council newsletter. He also annoyed the HELL out of me back then. His name was Ory. He had every tape and every published shred about Pink Floyd from the Syd era. I was actually impressed by his collection but hated talking to him.
Finally, while the guy behind me was boring me to death with some story about some Syd cover or another, I asked who he knew over at Inky Fingers and the Anderson Council. He said there was a guy...uh...Michael he thinks. I said, "yeah, there was a Michael there." He went on..."yeah, and a guy named Rick ran it all."
In the end I asked, "so, what is your name?" In fact, I was pretty sure I knew who it was though he looked nothing like he used to. He was reading a lawschool text and drinking a shot of something. Not the annoying ruffled kid that I grew so sick of.
"I'm Ory" he said, and I didn't really expect anything else. Then he asked me who I was. I paused and made it maximally dramatic and said, "and I'm Rick."
You would have thought I was some kind of fucking hero to this guy. No joke. This guy has had NO life since I last saw him...except he has two kids and has started law school. I mean, yeah, his whole life is as different as mine but he's still as boring as ever stuck in some world of Syd bootlegs and stories about shows he saw back when. He's a serious loser.
Did I mention I was wearing a t-shirt I wore to every single Robyn Hitchcock show I have seen? Wanna hear about the time I saw him with the Egyptians and they went straight from "Railway Shoes" into "Uncorrected Personality Traits"...?
Losers all of us...though, I'd like to think some of us are more famous losers than others.
I was sitting with my daughter and a man behind me asked if I got my Tshirt from "that Anderson Council" thing. He said he had something to do with one of the newsletters a couple years back. Went on to say, "yeah, something about Inky Fingers in Berkeley. Those guys." He mentioned he wore the very same t-shirt a few days before, but tonight had chosen to wear his Pink Floyd tshirt. I told him I thought I had heard of Inky Fingers and the Anderson Council.
A little time passed and the man behind me asked again if I knew where my t-shirt came from. He wanted to talk about shows he had seen. He wanted to talk bootlegs. He was boring the HELL out of me and distracting me while I was trying to enjoy dinner with my kid before seeing my hero. I was sitting there thinking how odd it is to sit next to someone who knew my "work" ten years ago. He remembered it. It had somehow touched his stupid life. He wore my tshirt a few days ago and had an immediate working knowledge of a newsletter that I published (ONCE!) and a memory of a business that had been my whole life for a while.
There was this one guy back in the day who contributed quite a lot to the Anderson Council newsletter. He also annoyed the HELL out of me back then. His name was Ory. He had every tape and every published shred about Pink Floyd from the Syd era. I was actually impressed by his collection but hated talking to him.
Finally, while the guy behind me was boring me to death with some story about some Syd cover or another, I asked who he knew over at Inky Fingers and the Anderson Council. He said there was a guy...uh...Michael he thinks. I said, "yeah, there was a Michael there." He went on..."yeah, and a guy named Rick ran it all."
In the end I asked, "so, what is your name?" In fact, I was pretty sure I knew who it was though he looked nothing like he used to. He was reading a lawschool text and drinking a shot of something. Not the annoying ruffled kid that I grew so sick of.
"I'm Ory" he said, and I didn't really expect anything else. Then he asked me who I was. I paused and made it maximally dramatic and said, "and I'm Rick."
You would have thought I was some kind of fucking hero to this guy. No joke. This guy has had NO life since I last saw him...except he has two kids and has started law school. I mean, yeah, his whole life is as different as mine but he's still as boring as ever stuck in some world of Syd bootlegs and stories about shows he saw back when. He's a serious loser.
Did I mention I was wearing a t-shirt I wore to every single Robyn Hitchcock show I have seen? Wanna hear about the time I saw him with the Egyptians and they went straight from "Railway Shoes" into "Uncorrected Personality Traits"...?
Losers all of us...though, I'd like to think some of us are more famous losers than others.
Posted at 07:40 AM Read More
It is all digital
"The universe is based on sullen
entropy. It falls apart as it goes on..."
Night before last I had a series of dreams that MUST
be drawn from the recent lecture called "Plenty of Room at the Bottom" about
miniaturization. This isn't some lecture on making small parts, it was about
extreme miniaturization in making factories and printed matter that is measured
in angstroms. But, it feeds nicely into how a CD is burned and the very
technologies that became (30+ years later) the computer
age.
Anyway, I was sitting in the kitchen I had drawn when I was a kid in school...about 3rd grade. You don't know about it, but I do because I lived it. It was a kitchen table with George Washington and Abe Lincoln sitting having a discussion about pizza. Long story there. Outside the window (and the reason I won an award for the picture when I was a kid) was a canon shooting pizzas at the long lines of troops for each side. Why were Abe and George seemingly the two sides? I dunno, I was a kid. But, that was the setting for my dream anyway. It was drawn in crayon and an unsteady hand.
Behind me on one side was the window that in my picture had the shooting pizzas, but it actually had two smokestacks. They were drawn but looked like the Battersea powerplant from the cover of Animals. The two smokestacks were opposite the window that wouldn't have been drawn in my picture (it would be behind the viewer). In that window was a single smokestack like the one in the photo I took of the Slow Poisoners at Toxic Beach.
Anyway, as I sat and talked about narcotic pain killers with George and Abe, and George showed Abe his wooden teeth to Abe showing George his wooden leg (yeah, forget the history here), the smokestacks would spit smoke puffs. The order was paramount in the dream. First the two, then the one, then back. It was actually the entire Encyclopedia encrypted in the digital puffs of smoke. That was the point of the dream.
George and Abe got into an argument about what kind of wood was used to make the teeth and leg and when I suggested it was made of the tree George cut down the two of them got really pissed at me and I woke up before reading the end of the encrypted message. I woke up feeling very unsettled like I had missed the ending.
Anyway, I was sitting in the kitchen I had drawn when I was a kid in school...about 3rd grade. You don't know about it, but I do because I lived it. It was a kitchen table with George Washington and Abe Lincoln sitting having a discussion about pizza. Long story there. Outside the window (and the reason I won an award for the picture when I was a kid) was a canon shooting pizzas at the long lines of troops for each side. Why were Abe and George seemingly the two sides? I dunno, I was a kid. But, that was the setting for my dream anyway. It was drawn in crayon and an unsteady hand.
Behind me on one side was the window that in my picture had the shooting pizzas, but it actually had two smokestacks. They were drawn but looked like the Battersea powerplant from the cover of Animals. The two smokestacks were opposite the window that wouldn't have been drawn in my picture (it would be behind the viewer). In that window was a single smokestack like the one in the photo I took of the Slow Poisoners at Toxic Beach.
Anyway, as I sat and talked about narcotic pain killers with George and Abe, and George showed Abe his wooden teeth to Abe showing George his wooden leg (yeah, forget the history here), the smokestacks would spit smoke puffs. The order was paramount in the dream. First the two, then the one, then back. It was actually the entire Encyclopedia encrypted in the digital puffs of smoke. That was the point of the dream.
George and Abe got into an argument about what kind of wood was used to make the teeth and leg and when I suggested it was made of the tree George cut down the two of them got really pissed at me and I woke up before reading the end of the encrypted message. I woke up feeling very unsettled like I had missed the ending.
Posted at 07:20 AM Read More
Mon - November 17, 2003
Dominoes
"Wasting time with dominoes. A day
so dark, so warm, life that comes to no harm."
Started today excited. It had the best of every
possible world in it. It wasn't a neutral day either. Then, like bubbles
popping, every last bit of anything worth a fuck slowly vanished. I just want
today to be over. I want nothing that I now feel like I don't deserve. I want
to be left alone by the gods who would fuck with me. I just want to be free of
the shame and humiliation of having gotten a little too excited about the new
toys under the tree, you
know?
Fuck.
It just proves that it is better not to expect a damned thing and to be surprised that once in a decade when something great happens to you. Then again, trying to make the best of it maybe I need to remember that it isn't my job to be here to take or to enjoy my own things. It is my place to lend without expecting to get anything back, to give without strings, to help without expectation. It is a lot nicer when I'm in the right place to be that guy. Today I just want to not do today anymore.
There were cool dreams last night. I didn't update them this morning because I was on cloud nine about tonight. Now I just don't give a fuck about some lame-assed blog. The dream report can wait.
Fuck.
It just proves that it is better not to expect a damned thing and to be surprised that once in a decade when something great happens to you. Then again, trying to make the best of it maybe I need to remember that it isn't my job to be here to take or to enjoy my own things. It is my place to lend without expecting to get anything back, to give without strings, to help without expectation. It is a lot nicer when I'm in the right place to be that guy. Today I just want to not do today anymore.
There were cool dreams last night. I didn't update them this morning because I was on cloud nine about tonight. Now I just don't give a fuck about some lame-assed blog. The dream report can wait.
Posted at 05:01 PM Read More
Bounce and Squish
Wish I'd Never
Treachery
Drips
Suicide Attempt
My life is a blog category fusion
Thinking points
Rape
In short
Wind up CPU
Game theory
Ray of sunlight...
Who the hell is Michael??
1000 Words of Wisdom
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Published On: Dec 02, 2003 03:54 PM
Published On: Dec 02, 2003 03:54 PM