Friday, January 30

Just When I Thought I Was Getting the Hang of This Job

Today in the halls I saw one of my students eating sugar

            from the

Sunday, January 25

Pancakes, Pancakes, Pancakes!!!

I've come to suspect that a part of my hubris lies in my own propesity to believe anything once. Case in point: I continuously find myself drawn in by overly enthusiastic and bright eyed horror movie directors who claim to want nothing more than to pay homage to classic spattergore films of the 70' and 80's, even though all they really want to do is apply gobs of fake blood to half-naked starlets before they "direct" them getting hacked up with machetes so they can get a three-picture deal with Lions Gate.

Part of my deal is that -- here are people who apparently DO what they love, and seemingly don't come into it for money, hipster points, or whatever. The idea of the dude who grew up a high-school fangoria loser becoming a b-list horror movie director gives the appearance of someone who actually went to college to become something, and possibly acheived it.

In other words, I'm sometimes envious of those who find their niche, and seem to have known all along what that niche would be, and how to get there.

By comparison, my own trailblazing towards Elysia feels haphazard and pale, which cheeses me off and inevitably leads me into that sometimes dangerous "I'm an artist too" creative spark (read: "No way I'm letting Joe Trust Fund make me feel bad when I'm slopping over with *TALENT* of my own!!)

...I believe in my own possession of unique talents and drive, but sometimes I'm bothered by how shallow I can be when it comes to comparing them to others.

        Hubris, yo.

Friday, January 23

It's Wafer Thin

    Maybe it's just me, but doesn't this kinda come off looking like a menu?

Thursday, January 22

That New Car ...Smell?

Brand new Blue paint (2003) w/Blue Leather. Power everything, Sunroof, A/C ice cold. Interior and exterior in great condition. Engine runs perfectly and recently serviced. Air suspension perfect! Car was used in adult film 'Highway Gangbang - In Da Butt'. May require some light interior cleaning. Car must be moved ASAP.

      * actual ad posted in Autotrader.

Wednesday, January 21

It's a Bug Hunt, Man... A Bug Hunt!!!

Late night escapades, myspace convos, and playstation brainfades. Everything and nothing leading to an absolute imperative for orange juice, a popsicle, or both. Bare feet on cold stone tile in the kitchen, flick on the lights

       ...and it's on

Cold weather and thrown away leftovers apparently means everyone is dining in tonight -- so suddenly I'm stomping, spraying, squashing, and cursing at the top of my lungs. I mean, it is Florida, so you've got to expect a little of this, but night after night lately it seems I'm fighting an uphill battle with these little fuckers.

       Joe's 'effin Apartment, you know?

And the thing is, I've never really been the most exacting housekeeper around. I mean, I do my best to keep things livable, but I wouldn't exactly suggest that you eat off my floors anytime soon. But even I have limits. Ever since this wild kingdom crap started, I've really been stepping it up to try to not only get rid of the bugs, but to make sure that the all-night buffet isn't really available anymore. So it's an added slap in the face when I hit the lights and the Swiss Family Roachington is camping out on the wall.

But the part that makes all of this really annoying is that the overall budget has gotten a little healthier lately, meaning the possibility of joining the rest of the world with DSL could actually become a reality. Or at least, it was a possibility until all this started. Now it's coming down to a choice between the Orkin man on the one hand, and faster pr0n on the other.

Which really isn't a choice at all, is it?

              ...Makes me miss the cats.
              Makes me miss 'em a lot.

Monday, January 19

Poisson Heureux

Here's what's making this fish happy today:

    1. Thinking about long-sleeved sweaters with snap buttons
    2. Mushroom Swiss Steakburger for lunch
    3. Finally getting the power cell over the lake in the Precursor Basin
    4. The Alphabet    (Holy cats... Zeds??)
    5. Hearing from friends I haven't talked to what seems like ages
    6. New (well, not really new, but new to me) Sevendust and POD
    7. The price of a delay pedal I want (Just the right color too - eh, Gristina?)
    8. The way we've kinda been lately
    9. Glass Danse World, by The Faint
    10. Those old photos of Alley Baggett eating sobe noodles

Saturday, January 17

Now's Your Chance, Hawkeye!

01. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
02. Am I loveable?
03. How long have you known me?
04. When and where did we first meet?
05. What was your first impression?
06. Do you still think that way about me now?
07. What do you think my weakness is?
08. What was the last bad joke I told you?
09. What makes me happy?
10. What makes me sad?
11. What reminds you of me?
12. What is my best quality?
13. How well do you think you know me?
14. When's the last time you saw me?
15. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
16. Do you think that I could kill someone?
17. Who would play me in a movie?
18. If I were to be a color, what one would I be?
19. Describe me in one word.
20. Do you think our friendship is getting stronger/weaker/or staying the same?
21. Do you think that I am stubborn?
22. Are you going to put this on your page and see what I say about you?

                                                -This is all Hana's fault. I answered yes on 22.

Wednesday, January 14

I Hock The Body Electric

        Consider the loogey.

Simple. Yellow(ish). Different. Nature's little care package. The germs in your throat, the flu bugs from Germany and the Far East that your body doesn't want anymore, all balled up into a little bundle of joy that you have to find a place for.

Cold and flu season are just sort of a fact of life this time of year. The weather gets cold, everyone starts talking a little raspy, and then people start disappearing from work for a few days at a time. The "creeping crud," as a dear friend of mine used to call it. But for me, it's not come with bells and bows, or even runny noses and muscle aches. For me this year, it's come with unplanned urges to cough, followed by the surprise delivery of something from my throat.

         Hello, mucus.

The cough it takes to get all this crap up sounds like the death rattle of a 53' Studebaker, and makes you feel like you unintentionally did a whippet or something. But then you're caught with this, this... thing that you've got to get rid of. The only other alternative is choking it back, and believe me -- that's not topping my list of favorite things to do anytime soon.

So for the past few weeks I've become one of those guys that has to find the time and place to hock. Like some Tai Chi ritual or kung fu move, you need to find your center. Then you say the magic word ("kkkhhruughhrhhsshgg!") and it's time to play ball!!

And the thing about it is, guys know how to spit. I don't know what it is about the male pscyhe it is that makes this one of those talents we feel compelled to pick up, but there's something in the extra chromosome that turns us into zombies unless we develop control and direction. But a loogey spit... that's a whole different animal.

The loogey spit has to be a projection. You CANNOT risk spray. You cannot go into this thing half prepared. If you're going to spit loogey, it's got to be up and out. Lift AND separate, you know? Anything less and you're going to end up hitting yourself. So you work on it, like shooting freethrows or something. And here in the south, where spitting is somehow a community activity, you get to see all kinds of flair thrown in for good measure. Guys will sort of "jump" while they spit, or whip their heads to one side. Anything you can think of to get some velocity going. There was a dude we used to surf with who used to name his loogeys. He'd shout "Here comes a spinner!!!" and we'd all have to run for the hills, lest we get caught in the path of a boomerang shot.

All of this running through my mind this morning while I stood in line at the gas station to pay for my coffee and 15 gallons of unleaded, an unexpected spinner trapped in my mouth.

There is nothing more disgusting, nothing more debasing than waiting for some guy to count out enough nickels to pay for a pack of cigarettes and not having the voice to cuss him out. All it would take is one focused breath, one surgical strike of natural weaponry and I could clear this store. Maybe I could try to hit the pack of smokes, do the guy a favor by nudging him on his way to cutting back or quitting by snot strafing his Winston 100's from 50 paces.

But no, I'm a civilized ape. I'm an adult with restraint and control. I'm an educator of young minds. (Let's face it -- I'm probably going to come here tomorrow for more coffee, so projectile spitting works against me ever getting anything close to a "regulars discount.")

         I hold.
         Dear god.. I hold.

Finally cancer boy makes his purchase, and it's my turn at the register.

         "Do I want anything else?" --- I quickly nod no.
         "Cash or Charge?" --- I hold up my credit card.

The girl furrows her brow for a second and then looks up from the computerized register at me. I'm pretty sure you can see the sweat on my brow, and notice the discomfort in my face. At this point it's like the thing in my mouth is ticking, ready to explode at any second.

         And she says to me, "Which car was yours -- the blue or the green?"

Tuesday, January 13

Scent of Magnolia

The key to floating in water is not to move. But the trick is to not stiffen your body or lock into a frozen pose. When your muscles are strained, the balance is kiltered and you will begin to sink. So you have to remain loose, let your body sit on the water and move with it like a fallen leaf on the surface of a lake.

It's frustrating though -- frustrating to feel yourself rise and fall and know that the only way you can maintain your victory is to do nothing. Some people will tell you to arch your back, straighten your spine -- but when you do that the water rolls over your face, threatens to get into your mouth and sinus. Nothing fatal, of course - but it's the sort of thing that makes the act of lying loose and doing nothing just that much more difficult.

So you stay there, staring upward to the sky -- aware of the meniscus in your peripheral sight and the elements against your skin. It amplifies every sound. You hear so much when your ears are underwater, but to remain afloat, you cannot move to react. You must listen. You must.. hear.

      It's supposed to be relaxing.
      It's supposed to be calming.
      Zen in a bathtub, satori in a pool.

But the thing is, when you're floating there - you the leaf, passive in a world not your own, everything loud as life without the freedom to flinch, to move, to do anything at all's kind of unnerving.

         But it's the only way to make it work.
         ...It's the only way to keep from sinking.

I don't know.. maybe it's just me. I find it hard to just let a pot simmer without stirring it. It's hard to not watch the water until it boils. It's a very difficult proposition for me to achieve something by not doing anything, even when I know that trying to do too much has often been my quickest path to downfall.

But I don't want to sink. And I don't want to drown.

So I'm going to stay here - unmoving. Loose and relaxed (as best I can be). I'm going to trust in the balance. I'm going to rise and fall.

Thursday, January 8

Actually Spoken During the Course of My Day

    "I don't have to do any nudity for this interview, do I?"

Wednesday, January 7

Dressing for the Weather

Almost a week back, trying to catch the groove. Somehow my energy feels wrong, like part of me is here, but part of me is still somewhere else. The reflexes are returning, but it's like the stairs are a little further apart than I remember, and it stretches my legs to walk them in ways my muscles don't recall.

But what's most weird is how time starts to stretch without the familiar companions. Days seemed to stretch forever, strangely slowed down from their carefree vacation time predecesors, leaving me wondering how it was at all I seemed to get nothing done when there were so many hours to do things in..

While students worked Flowers For Algernon in class yesterday, I finished 2 novels. Short novels, sure -- but suddenly I'm reading like a starving man again, looking for something outside, something different.

       All too aware of my own cycles and phases, this worries me a little...

Plus, an old shadow has been creeping into my dreams. Spurred by a shortcut I've been taking home and the particular memories that will always remain wrapped around the particular 5 miles I drive just to shave 10 minutes off my ride, I've been finding myself on playgrounds from my past, watching sunrises that have long since gone away.

...I mean, It's not like I didn't realize where that road went, but I guess I never expected to wake up in the middle of the night all these years later with the taste of shiverkiss fresh on my tongue.

      Time away
      Mind astray

                  ... and there you are.
                  There you always are.

Saturday, January 3


So often it seems the things that you want to do get lost in what people think you're trying to do. Sometimes this world feels like a difficult place to accomplish wordlessly cool tasks.

I'm guilty of it myself, assuming trancers before testing them with the glowing bracelet; but I guess after so many years it becomes easy to believe that you can tell the squids from the living just by looking at them. Somehow though, it also becomes difficult to believe that some things are ever going to be any different.

      ...perhaps that's part of the problem, too.

Type, erase. Write, delete. Paint the line, wipe the canvas. Compose the song without writing down the notes. Burn the CD without checking the tracks. Where is my voice here anymore?

...and while I'm asking questions, can anyone tell me what \m/ stands for?

Thursday, January 1

Surely, MacLaine

It's only dawning upon me now that she might actually have known me.

She read my dogtag, and then she asked a question that didn't really make sense for her to be asking. I shrugged it off, though. I mean, nobody on either side of the stage says anything they mean in here ...right?


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