I should have gone to New Orleans this summer as I’d originally planned.
“You don’t know what I’ve got…” August 21, 2005
I hate the Beach Boys. Not because their music sucks… in fact,
it’s almost guaranteed to bring a smile to my face and make me long for
the “good ole days” I never experienced. The theme that pops up
in their songs very often, however, is not one that makes me smile.
Ever ever ever. I hate cars. I always have.
When I was about 10 or 11, I used to have nightmares that my brother
got his driver’s license and we’d drive down a hill in Tahitian Village
in Bastrop and the brakes would go out. Whoops, we’re dead. My mother
and father always took us car shopping with them. I don’t know
why – I used to make it hellish for them. I complained
visibly and dramatically. “The smell of cars makes me feel sick.”
” Look, I’m gagging.” “I have a migraine.” They bored me,
they stink, I hate salesman… All of my worldly debt can be traced
back to cars: buying them, maintaining them, not maintaining
them. “I’m never going to drive.” Hey – this worked out for my
parents. I had no desire to drive early and so, never bugged them
about it. I’ve got a personal chauffer, what do I need a car for?
I discovered later in my teenage years that I would need a vehicle for
independence, something *worth* dying for… I hate mechanics, too.
PISS OFF August 19, 2005
Ok. It’s day one of me quitting smoking. I am journaling about it because it makes it real and cements my commitment to quit… leaving no reason for me to rationalize it away. Corny enough, I was inspired by someone who was inspired of the Death of Peter Jennings (like the capitalization? me too), but inspired a little late… after he found out he had a tumor on the roof of his mouth where the pipe tip sat, which had to be lazered away. It was malignant, so that’s good, but who wants to be spewing blood for weeks?
So, here it is Day One. Not yet over. It’s been okay. I haven’t had a single craving yet. I’m just so fucking hungry! Amanda is getting me a burrito, while I sit here on my lunch hour because I have to get my oil changed in my car. I don’t want to drive my car anymore until I have my paycheck and I know I can pay to fix it if it dies on the way home! I am such a procrastinator… why do I always have to wait until I am in perioulous danger… or at least in a financial quagmire?
Now I don’t know if it’s lack of nicotine, but fuck it. I am going to complain. You may have noticed that you can’t read a single entry of mine unless you are my friend. Or you haven’t noticed, because if you’re reading this, you’re already my friend. That’s because they are all locked on friends-only. Why, you ask?
I checked my e-mail this morning and got this message responding to one of my previous entries:
Somebody replied to your LiveJournal post in which you said:
q: what do you get when you have 125 beers, 8 packs of smokes, 5 hours, 13 beautiful people and 2 joints on the guadalupe river?
a: boozing, vices, drama, laughter, craziness, dorsett’s greasy dinery food, dizziness, exhaustion, the worst sunburn in my entire life.
Their reply was:
Are you sure those 13 people were beautiful? Booze and drugs may make it seem so. But then again its how they are in the inside that makes them beautiful or not. But its not something easily earned.
Well, fuck YOU anonymous person who may be some uptight self-righteous, overly-religious person that I may even know from my past who has lurched around the internet world and found me, which MEANS we are NOT friends. What the hell makes you think you know anything about my friends and their possibly-not-beautiful insides. Yeah, I should watch out when I am writing entries the day after I go out on the river, forget the sun getting to my head, the drugs and alcohol made me make friends who were possibly not really beautiful. I’ve been hoodwinked!
YOU are going to be the father whose children don’t confide in you, who is always the last to know in your circle of friends because the people you think you are closest to don’t feel comfortable enough to tell you, who lives every day like it is your last, not because you fear you won’t live life to its fullest, but because you fear that you are committing a grave sin when you satisfy any of your earthly desires, who winds up with lung cancer and kidney failure and never got the chance to get high or crunk. You don’t know shit about beautiful, about sharing your desires and dreams with other people. Judge away, goldenboy, go fuck yourself.
spreading like buttah August 14, 2005
Ok. It’s the virus on livejournal. Please comply:
1. Reply with your name and I’ll respond with something random about you.
2. I’ll tell you what song/movie/book/fictional character reminds me of you.
3. I’ll pick a substance to wrestle with you in.
4. I’ll say something that only makes sense to you and me. Or at least me.
5. I’ll tell you my favorite memory of you.
6. I’ll tell you what animal or plant you remind me of.
7. I’ll ask you something that I’ve always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal.
bank of the tone. August 13, 2005
really FULL, good-feelin’ Saturday. i dyed my hair the color of poop, but magenta poop. it was supposed to be browish/red. aaron says it’s eggplant. i will try to rock it. you don’t know how difficult that is without having tattoos. i won’t cry about it because it’s funny. luckily i mistakenly picked up the non-permanent, which means a good sweat and i’ll have purple running down my neck. faaaaaabulous.
louisa and i got coffee and went el grocery h-e-b to pick up some lunch material. then we had lunch. we rented documentaries – one about jews and one about russians. we didn’t get to watch them because louisa’s mom came over and we all went to goodwill, where i bought a keyboard for $20. we went to another goodwill and louisa haggled a keyboard from $40 down to $20. i am looking forward to hours of amusement from these things.
we stopped on the way home to get some fredericksburg peaches. louisa’s mom asked the seller some questions about people she knows in fredericksburg, making small talk. he said “with all these sandniggers coming in and puttin’ up convenient stores everywhere…” louisa’s mom: “ex..excuse me, what’s a sandnigger?” “iranians and arabs and…” i went back to my car with a bag full of wonderful peaches.
other stuff too, but i don’t recall at the moment. i am going to attempt to make the rest of me look hot before i go to the attack formation cd release show at emo’s.
i drove over a little possum night before last. i killed it dead. i’ve never hit an animal before… there was no way i could have missed it.
i found a list of contacts i’d forgotten about… i’ve had a chance to talk to about 15 old friends i’ve been out of touch with for 2 or 3 years. dear people. i hope we get to see eachother soon. i have a really uncomfortable couch you are all welcome to sleep on.
my ability to drop off the face of the earh for months and years at a time is a finely honed skill. no one should take it personally (except you, scumbag!) – it’s a tick. a habit. buy me presents and i’ll stay in touch.
i missed out on seeing de la soul tonight. it’s sold out. i know, i would’ve bought in advance if i had the cash, but i didn’t so SHUTUP.
i am going to go see a j. jarmusch film with bill murray tonight.
i got a raise.
i have a headache.