04.05.01 - 3:23 a.m.
Fifty odd minutes, la la la
Ah Diaryland. What do I say to you now, in this state that I am in.
I pledge to be honest.
I pledge to make mistakes.
I am at cross-purposes. I want this to be a place where I write for myself, to remember what happened. And I want people to read this. But, what then? With strangers it's no problem, but friends? Coworkers? Secret underground comrades from The Revolutionary Bolshevik Party? Every new pair of eyes threatens new invisible constraints, my timidity grows, finally only a series of meek mewls is left... but what then? Lock it if you want, but of course you don't. Is it passive-aggressive? Is it unhealthy? Why are these words necessary?
This is exactly the folderol that I wanted to avoid in le journale de pirate lingo, this nattering self-referentiality where people endlessly chronicle their chronicling, without ever getting outside to that real meat of life, the substance... the daily details, insignificant and amusing, that woven together discover the truth as surely as any amount of brow-furrowing and ponderous contemplation of existence. Let this be the last time I get lazy in this regard. Or else-- off with 'is head.
Here is some meat for your bones.
Today/tonight the following things:
1. Ate a dead insect (1 beer & 1 song, tiny insect, good deal)
2. Microwaved a bar of soap (don't do this! your whole house will smell like SOAP. in retrospect this outcome seems rather inescapable but at the time the air was positively radiant with the heady flush of scientific investigation)
3. Designed experimental shopping cart trix with Shawn (why don't they bring out a shopping cart version of Tony Hawk Pro Skater? game executives please call us for further information)
4. usual suspects but also urvish& co. (in town for interview-- moving here?!), arnie, arnie's girlfriend. Urvish-> hilarious analysis of Falana's strategy/tactics in getting Curtis to marry her ("at that point, he thought it was still first down.")
5. As well you know, tomorrow's Derby Day. As we speak I'm busting out the Sport's Almanac, graphing calculator, sextant, tides tables, I Ching... time to compute me a winnah! Don't play to win I play to show
I'm the maestro
5(a) But also tomorrow is another traditional Mexican holiday known as Cinco de Mayo. (Yesterday at work I actually asked, "so when's Cinco de Mayo again?") Ideally one would celebrate Cinco de Mayo and Derby Day in one everloving all-embracing breath, but. problems, e.g. i'm fighting the wholely inappropriate and frankly bizarre urge to obtain huge quantities of orange cheesy ballpark-quality nachos and then wave them provocatively, inciting ethnic unrest, anger, chaos throughout the city. All this over nachos. (ok i just realized this urge comes from that pavement song where they "wave their nachos like they just don't care" & actually it exemplifies a sunny California optimism, not racism. flying high...
6. Discussion of tomorrow's tentative sombreros-- no progress. In related setback, despite my best efforts, I failed to convince Triet that wearing Santa Claus hat in non-Christmas context can be hip. But it can, dammit! Severe resistance, retreat for now.
7. what late hour is this, why am i still up? this computer will suck out my soul and shrivel my eyeballs; plans will be perpetually (permanently?) postponed.
profound Artistic Manifesto continues to flutter like a flag cut to shreds
and for some reason racquetball.
Try to imagine a shopping cart ollie. In a word: radical.
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