Monday, February 25, 2008


I am quite disappointed to discover that late nights no longer agree with me. I am a night owl by nature, but the necessity of working during the day has turned me reluctantly diurnal. I am too young to be nostalgic over my misspent youth, yet I find myself wishing for an all-night restaurant and friends to share the moment with. Perkins, or El Camino. Hot chocolate. Poetry. Card games. Drunken revelry. Yes, I miss it.

Work is work. I go, I sit, I answer phones and type, upload and download, and come home only to sit at my computer again for lack of other things to do. And yet I still look forward to it. Child of technology, I am. The computer is the new opiate of the masses, and I buy into it willingly. Foolish, sad, a disappointment to the rebel brewing inside. From this sort of angst, what can come but art? Facetious, too, that's me.

My book and bed call me. They wait--they are patient. They know I must soon succumb to sleep. A few pages, then, and afterwards I will rest. Tomorrow brings another day of work and melting snow.

Sunday, February 24, 2008


An excellent reiteration of cornbread, good for dessert (tho I'd eat it for breakfast):

Take pieces of cornbread (slightly stale or dry is fine). Crumble up a bit into bite-size pieces and spread in a layer on a plate or in a bowl. Dot the surface with butter or margarine and strawberry jam. Microwave for about 45 seconds. Eat with a spoon.

I discovered today that Jelly Belly makes 7-Up flavored jelly beans. They are interesting, if not completely different from the regular lemon-lime jelly beans. Perhaps they have a bit more "sparkle" to them. The fizz, unfortunately, is only imaginary.

It has been several years since I visited a library with any frequency. Today, I went and got a library card and with it checked out two novels that I have not read yet. Perhaps this will allow me to stem the flow of money from my checking account into the coffers of Barnes and Noble. The books I borrowed are Mort by Terry Pratchett and Coyote Blue by Christopher Moore. In three weeks, I hope to have read both of them. First, though, I will finish Good Omens. Which I should get back to now.

Saturday, February 23, 2008


I'm not sure why I didn't finish reading Good Omens the first time I started it. I'm trying again now--started Friday afternoon over lunch and I'm not quite halfway through by now. Neil Gaiman makes me grin. If I ever got 'round to reading the Discworld books, I'm sure Terry Pratchett would have the same effect.

After a month, I have come to the conclusion that a studio apartment, while being sufficient for my basic needs (food, sleep, internet), is severely lacking in certain qualities. To wit: my kitchen, or rather, the countertop therein. I lack a place to stack dishes until I get around to washing them (yes, I wash them, frequently). There is no space to leave out my blender, nor to place a toaster should I eventually purchase one. My microwave is perched somewhat precariously atop my refrigerator. This, one may conjecture, is not ideal.

I currently have three Ziploc bowls of heavily spiced chili and most of a pan of cornbread sitting on my table. They are entirely excellent, and the heat of the chili has had the fortunate side effect of temporarily clearing my sinuses. As I am rather fond of procuring a sufficient oxygen supply for my brain, this pleases me.

My final task for this evening is laundry. If the gods favor me, perhaps I shall find an empty clothes dryer now.

Friday, February 22, 2008


Eventually, raw nerves go numb.

I have come to the conclusion, as most people do at some point in their lives, that everything that I enjoy is probably bad for me. Sugar rots my teeth. Staying up all night leads to a sleep-starved brain. Spending my spare time at the computer has already resulted in a pinched nerve in my neck and will probably lead to carpal tunnel. Keep going like this and I'll fall apart by the time I hit 30. This is the course of nature: everything tends towards entropy, and we humans are creatures of order. Decay, dissolution, and chaos are bad.

I am not well. This is due to my inability to behave as though I am ill when my mind is not impaired. Put succinctly: I think too much to rest well.

Perhaps the best advice that I have distilled from this short bout of illness is this: drink tea.

Thursday, February 21, 2008


The world is sick and suffering. The plague is boredom. The noblest goal to pursue now is not virtue, but curiosity.

The greatest commandment is to learn, and to never stop learning. Go, grow plants, pick up a guitar and learn to play, read a book, do something. Stagnation is a sin--it is my fondest hope that staring at the TV will only placate the mind for so long until it rebels, begins a counter-offensive to maintain its integrity lest it melt in the skull. It will turn the media-bloated men and women out blinking into the light. The global subconscious will stage a revolution.

Best yet, turn off this screen. Go outside--I don't care if it's cold, grab a jacket. Make a snowman, or pick up a rock and examine the bugs crawling around underneath, or search the sidewalks and gutters for hidden treasure. Tell someone you love them, in person. Take a notebook and sketch or write about the next person you see.

Draw a deep breath and welcome the new air. You are alive. The only goal is this: be not normal.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008


I used to challenge myself to go through entire days without speaking. Silence of the mouth leading to silence of the mind, or something. Today I lost my voice to a cold. Keeping silent is infinitely more taxing when you are physically unable to speak.

Sleep does not come easy right now. I lay back, I breathe, I quiet my mind, and still my consciousness remains. Perhaps it is a jilted lover--when I ignore it for days on end until it becomes insistent and drags me to bed, perhaps it believes that I do not want it around and leaves me just when I need it most.

Tonight, maybe I can coax it back to my loving embrace.

looking for a voice

Hi. It's been a while since I did this. Regularly, at least. Or without deleting the single post I made a month later because I couldn't follow it up.

Today I choose not to be intimidated by the blank page.

Two months ago, I got a job. They hired me because I was nervous during the phone interview and told them I was a computer geek. Nearly slapped myself for that after the call. Turns out that's what they were looking for. Can I call that serendipity?

Now here's the question: does it make me happy?

Jury's still out.

This is me calling out into the void. Anyone still there to hear me? I miss the folks I used to know--if you remember me, stop by and say hi.