Listening to Frying Pan (again) by Victoria Williams performed by Evan Dando

Whew! I think that it has been a couple weeks of excess now. I have been living a little high on the horse and it is time to rein it in. Ha! Two horse metaphors.
My best friend suggested that we go abroad this fall sometime. go around Europe on a trip we had always wanted to take. "We're not getting any younger," he said. And I feel that. I feel time slip by more acutely than I did when I was younger. Not because I value it more, but just because there is more of it. When I was younger an 8 hour shift anywhere would be the most daunting thing in the world. Now it is just another way to pass the time. I was out in the East Village last night getting drunk and I kept on passing all of these young kids. I mean, they were of legal drinking age, but they were definitely younger looking than any of the college kids I remember seeing. Have I reached that separation? Are people beginning to, I don't know, look as if they belong in middle school?
I am not suicidal, never have been - well, actually, there was this one time.... - But sometimes I feel like there is so much life to live and I don't know how I am going to get through it all. That isn't meant to sound nearly as depressing as it does. It simply means that as you begin to look at life and the things you want to achieve you start to see that how you imagined things to work out isn't always how they will. All of the people that you see out there that have some sort of notoriety have risen to those means through more chance than sheer determination. There are spaces in the world that need to be filled and the masses will always find people to insert into these roles. However, in an opposite sense, the roles we need to have filled are seldom realized and hence, left vacant. The same goes for our lives. What we think we need is rarely what we need at all. And what we disregard as important is usually the most important thing of all. I think all of us tend to look for some kind of pill that when swallowed will suddenly and swiftly change the direction of our life's current. And it isn't so. Money isn't some great salve. Nor love, nor success, nor clothes, nor cars, nor anything, really. What you hope to add to your life that will make it better is only as satisfying ass the change you went through to get it.
Wow - I AM hung over, This doesn't make any sense at all. Rein it in, rein it in..... you are your most valuable commodity. That is all I am trying to say. Any attempt to "fix" your life by finding love or money will result in you being just where you were when you began. Sigh. Or maybe not. Maybe those things really will fix everything. I don't know. I am just tired of assuming that love is going to help everything get better. Actually - I am a little sick of myself. I hear myself talk, read what I write and I find it so boring and trite and I get frozen with a fear of inadequacy. Not that I think that I am a failure - more like there is so much more I could be touching upon. So much more that I could be saying that I am not. and I look inside to find out what those things may be and I see a void. An invulnerable obelisk of uncertainty that has taken root in the soil of my heart.
Ahahahaha. Did you just read that? obelisk .... soil of my heart... Jesus. Who do I think I am?
It's Monday. I am hung over. I spent way too much money last night. And for what? Who knows? A hang over? A clever story? Approximately 40,000 calories? So I could sleep on my couch? I am unsure. I am unsure why we do any of the things we do.

Listening to Thirteen by Wilco


Been a bit wrapped up in nostalgia as of late. If you get a chance to find this song on Limewire I would download it.

Thirteen


Won't you let me walk you home from school
Won't you let me meet you at the pool
Maybe Friday I can
Get tickets for the dance
And I'll take you

Won't you tell your dad to get off my back
Tell him what we said about "Paint it, black"
Rock and roll is here to stay
Come inside where it's okay
And I'll shake you

Won't you tell me what you're thinking of
Would you be an outlaw for my love
If it's so well let me know
If it's no well, I can go
I won't make you

Been finding myself in a bit of an awkward position as of late. Been a little depressed with a downwardly spiraling libido. Some people have been telling me that this is natural. That all people go through it. I have never gone through it though. I have never paused in the middle of masturbation, looked at myself, and decided to stop. I've been telling myself I have a headache for a week. What does that mean?
Let's not think that much about it. I listened to some old songs from high school. Thought about an ex of mine. Felt terrible about where I was in life and about a potential inability to truly have an adult relationship. Received a couple text messages from another ex who is going through a rough patch with her relationships. That was bizarre. Received an e-mail from someone that I dated who lives abroad. That was perhaps the most difficult to try to come to terms with. I got cornered by a girl at work asking about my level of interest in her friend. And then there's Sunday...
I went out to dinner with my buddy Drew tonight. As is always the case, we talk about our love lives (or lack thereof) our work lives, and the general generational philosophies accompanying our middling twenty-something peers. Tonight we tried to figure out if marriage was just an outdated ritual that applied to people whose life spans were significantly shorter than ours. Drew's hypothesis was that in our lifetime we probably need three wives. the girlfriend we can live with now, the mother or our children, and our eventual companion when we get into old age. My best friend Steve was saying that in 15 short years our parents will be elderly people. They will have joined the rank and file of the aged. And we, in our humble little lives, will be entering into the most fruitful decade of our existence. A full ten years after our parents started their families. At least, in my case it was that way.
What is operating in our psyches that continually wants us to find new and exciting ways of sabotaging our life and love. Why are we continually preventing ourselves from going after what we want. I was reading the back of an Allure (I know, I know) and there was this interview with meg ryan talking about that shitty film she made with Jane Campion. She and Jane would talk about "Romantic Love" being the greatest lie of all. Pretty chilling stuff. Are we all afraid of finding something that could be incredibly good? And if we do, does everything else fall apart? I have two friends that are deeply in love, but miserable at their jobs. Do we all eventually end up staring across the empty expanse of a dinner table at someone we just can't relate to anymore? Are we all doomed to shut down whatever mechanism we have inside that allows us to love, to feel, to desire? Is there an oasis in the desert? Does love change? It has to, right?
recently I met this girl at work who is so crippled by insecurity ... I don't know. I related her story to Drew and he just said that in all likelihood she is someone that will never come out of that tunnel. I suppose I should feel lucky that I have enough confidence to operate and interact. And I do. But to look at someone and think that they may never actualize any potential because of their fears ... it's terrible. But i am sure that on some small level we all do it. We all have these little potholes we drive into. Maybe it's because we don't really think we deserve the happiness. Maybe it's because we are afraid of what we would do with ourselves if we were truly happy. Or maybe I am just a moron that thinks too much about shit that he has no right to even worry about.

Listening to Desperado by The Eagles

Found this on the web when I woke up:

Losing Your Hair
To dream that you are losing your hair, denotes that you are concerned with the notion that you are getting older and losing your sex appeal/virility. You are preoccupied with aging and your appearance. Losing you hair also signify a lack of strength and that you do not possess the power to succeed in an undertaking. You may be feeling weak and vulnerable.

Sigh. Last night I had a dream that I went to get my hair cut and the person cutting it completely butchered it. They left an enormous bald spot right in the middle of my head. And to my horror, once they had cut it, nothing would grow there. I had to go to work in what looked like some disturbingly dark, seedy, underground club in early 80's Krakow. And when I was done some troll faced woman tried to help me find some suitable ugly hipster clothes.
That would appear to be troubling. Except the night before I had an even more disturbing dream. Saturday night I had a dream that I was led to some basement warehouse area. Actually, a place more akin to a junk shop. There were long rows of tables littered with junk, trinkets, lost toys, and an inordinate amount of knives. Big knives, small knives, dull knives, sharp knives, butcher, paring, peeling, potato, etc. And out of nowhere a person would just appear in the basement with me, chasing me down these long aisles hurling knives at me while I threw them back. And beyond the high walls of this gray and dismal place there were a lot of people watching the event, like it was a sporting match. And if you ran out (of knives that is), you had to pick up the knives surrounding you. I must have been cut and in return butchered around 8 people with various sharp implements before waking up. Here's what the website had to say about knives:

Knife
To dream that you are carrying a knife, signifies anger, aggression and/or separation. There may be something in your life that you need to cut out and get rid of.
To see a dull knife in your dream, denotes that your hard work is accompanied by little or no gain.
To dream that you are wounded by a knife, suggests that you or someone is affected by hurtful remarks or malicious gossip.
To see an electric knife in your dream, indicates your power to get down to the truth of a situation quickly. *View Dream Bank: "Boiling A Rabbit"

I liked the part about the electric knife, including the "boiling a rabbit" part. Unfortunately, neither of those were in my dream.

I went to see the Mets beat the Yankees last night. It was awesome. In a lot of ways it was just what I needed. Something to distract my mind. Something that let me get shit faced and forget about everything that was bothering me. the only problem was that my friend Steve invited me and another guy Richie. Now Richie - he plays on the softball team that Steve play for. And said softball team hasn't been playing Steve a lot this season and Steve is pissed. So, for the entirety of the drive to the game, and then the game itself, Steve just lit into Richie. Telling him everything that was wrong with the team, that Richie was fucked up for not backing Steve, that Richie was a pussy, a bad player, etc. Now: Richie is a good player. So is Steve. Richie is on Steve's side. And it occurred to me - sometimes I think I burden my friends unnecessarily with my own bullshit. So Maggie, Katey, and Shannon, Steve, Dan and Susie - I am sorry. I don't think that I could be any more solipsistic and egocentric than I have been this past weekend. I think that we can be so blinded by our own neuroses that we forget how overpowering and thoughtless our selfish actions can be.
Last night at 5 am I ended up downloading a bunch of Indigo Girls songs. Never a good sign. Pretty soon I am going to get up and go to the gym and try to pull this train back on the tracks.
Tonight begins another Yankee/Red Sox series. Schilling takes the mound against Chien Mien Whatever. I hope we kick their ass. Sweep em right out of Fenway. I really do.

Listening To Nothing

I missed it. I fucking slept through the final song on the shuffle of my iPod. There has to be some dreadful irony there.
I went to my friend Lori's Luau birthday party last night. Apparently some huge drama unfolded minutes before I arrived. Lori use to be a part owner of a dive bar where I still work. In January she finally got bought out by the remaining partners, a husband and wife that are also close friends of mine. Well ... last night, apparently after some confrontation at the bar between the husband and wife due to marital strife, the husband went on a rampage. He showed up at the Luau which was located at another bar - kind of direct competition - and the other bar was packed with a lot of his bars' regulars. He approached Lori, berated her, kicked several people who were there off of his bar's softball team, fired the bartender working at the second bar (sorry this is getting confusing a little bit I know) who worked at his bar as well, and basically alienated the majority of his bar folk.
He had departed after I arrived. So, in the midst of this turmoil, I came in with some other friends and wished my friend Lori a happy birthday. And then was bombarded by rumors spinning wildly out of control. Rumors of the bar (Lori's old bar - not the Luau one) being closed down, regulars being 86'ed (banned from the bar) several people being fired, and I had to sort of scratch my chin and look around at the devastation. There was a definite spark of glee in a lot of people's eyes at the bar. There had been a little bit of a desire for the gradual degradation of this man by most of the people there. And I would not be surprised if this whole thing ended up blowing up in his face, resulting in his losing the majority of his bar going audience. And all these other rumors - about the bar being sold, or let go ... It's amazing. I don't know how to begin to address any of it. If it's plausible or even a likelihood. And I almost had to laugh. Because I remember times in my life when I thought it would be great to be in the middle of something like that, where I would have been sad that I missed it, even if it did cost me my job. But not last night. I was happy just to be surrounded by friends and people I hadn't seen in a long time and let the turmoil swirl around me. And it occurred to me, that before reality television people would thrive on the everyday gossip of their neighborhoods. And that maybe, that type of gossip, was really a necessary means by which communities get built. The minute political conflagrations that go on between neighbors create a sense of solidarity and knowledge which people now see with nostalgia through falsified means on television programs such as "Desperate Housewives" and "America's Next Top Model." We transplant our need for community onto a program that has nothing to do with our lives, the people who live next door, or even ( dare I say it) the people sitting right next to us. And then, by proxy, we vampirically attach ourselves to these people's lives outside of these television shows. We want to know who they are and what they wear and who they gossip about etc etc. We look at their sex tapes, ogle their children's wardrobes, and criticize their political affiliations emptily from our easy chairs.
This is not me rattling the cage, attacking television, saying read a book (although we could all read some more books for God's Sakes!). I am just saying that maybe it is better to take a critical look at what the function of gossip is in a community, and how does it serve us when we remove it from the community and apply it to something that wholeheartedly has nothing to do with who we are in a broader sense. Maybe this is all a bunch of empty bullshit, but maybe there is something to it. Like buying your Frosted Flakes at Wal-Mart versus that Ma and Pop place down the street. I mean US weekly? Please!

Listening To Train In Vain (Live) by The Clash

I have listened to approximately 3900 of the 4,120 songs on my iPod. This is the most borderline OCD thing I have ever done. Well ... actually not true. Apparently, most people have some low level Obsessive Compulsive disorder. Do you know what I do? I count syllables on my fingers. Silently, during conversations. I assume that there are three sides to the tips of your fingers - the nail, the top, and the pad. And so a perfect sentence, song lyric, or response to a question will be exactly 15 syllables long. That way it fits perfectly on the tips of your fingertips. I don't know why I do this. And it's not all the time. Sometimes I do it with my two front teeth. I try not to do the teeth thing at work because I tend to be pretty high energy and chipper anyway that I don't need people assuming that I am on any Columbian stimulants. Which, if you know most of the staff where I work, is not a very big leap.
I have been dealing with personal boundaries in my life a lot lately. Trying to puzzle out what I feel belongs to me and only me, what I feel like I can burden people with, who I tell things to, and whether or not what I have to say is truly worth telling. My roommate and I can talk about boys and girls and relationships all day and all night and never get sick of it. We always hash and re-hash what happens with our romantic interests, talk about our ideal relationships, and wonder at our loneliness from afar like two Japanese tourists staring down a Polar Bear. But she doesn't talk to me about her Father. Which I know for a fact tremendously bothers her. Sometimes it's like an 800 pound gorilla sitting in the corner, eating all the crudite and double dipping. I don't know what it is with all the zoological references. But I don't push her on it.
Whenever I get pushed about what happened between me and a past girlfriend, how it ended, etc. I never offer up many details. I always try to neatly and cleanly nutshell it out of respect for the woman and my relationship. I just have always been that way. There is honestly only one person that I spill every detail to, and it's the same person that I have been spilling details to since I was 15 years old - my best friend Steve. Jesus. Has it been 13 years? My god. Where does it go? Anyway, if my Ma presses me I will tell her. Oh , and sometimes I talk to my Grandmother about it - but mostly in sweeping generalizations. SO when I get asked about my personal relationships I just feel ... I don't know .. awkward. Especially if it is with another woman that I like. Because no guy wants to seem like a dick for breaking up with a woman or a reject for being dumped. And what happened between you and another person is truly nobody's business except your own.
It's raining outside now and I would be a liar if I told you that I wanted to go to work. I am hoping that these projected thunderstorms continue through the night and I am granted tonight off. I hope something similar happens to you too today as you read this. That some strange occurrence helps make your day a little bit nicer and bearable.

Listening to Private Conversation by Lyle Lovett

I have listened to approximately 3100 songs out of the 4120 on my iPod. It has taken me about two weeks up until this point, what with the stopping and the starting, etc. I am determined to make it all the way to the end. Just to hear what that last song may be on the algorithm that Steve Jobs decided to personally implement in my music machine. I swear, that guy is like a real life Willy Wonka.
I saw Mission Impossible 3 tonight. I would just like to say that I have never seen a film that is more thematically linked with a person's (questionable) "real" life. Cruise's character marries a younger chick, pushes himself beyond believable limitations at his age in what could be considered a fading Ace's midlife crisis. There were also overtures of Cocktail, Top Gun, Magnolia, and a bunch of other shit he has done. All and all it was an action packed melange of a whole lot of "please, love me!" bullshit.
Also had a voice over class tonight. It went well. I nailed the copy I was given. I guess that I am just not doing everything right. Or maybe, I just don't feel like I am. Work has been a drag as of late and I am looking around kind of perplexed. Not really knowing what the next step is. It's funny - a lot of the time you kind of have to sit on opportunities and wait for them to unfold. Especially in this business. And life? Well ... life just kind of marches on. Nieces and nephews grow older, friends get married, get divorced, siblings start to bald, you gain weight, you lose weight, you tell your Ma about someone you're dating, she knows better than to ask about whether you are still dating a few months later, coffee is drank, coffee is quit, cigarettes enter and exit your life with equal nonchalance, arguments arrive and depart, seasons change, yada yada yada.
What's the line from the T.S. Eliot poem? I have measured out my life in coffee spoons? Hmm ... wait a sec - google - ah yes, here it is:

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair--
[They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin--
[They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:--
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

So how should I presume? Isn't that the real question? And what am I presuming? Am I presuming that I know any more than the next guy, just because of my limited experience? Is there any real time to puzzle it all out as we hurtle through our little lives, arbitrarily making up rules as we go along, trying to adhere to what little moral code we can assemble from the bombardment of this strange experiment. Can we separate ourselves from the molding influence of our parental guidance? Our genetic affectations? Our own troubled pasts? Can we aspire to live our lives according to some greater paradigm like religion, or politics, or and other -ism that may collide with us on our paths? Do we fool ourselves into believing that zealotry is anything more than a facade designed to hide our deepest fears from surfacing? How do we presume to adventure forth into this great experiment? Do we all really die alone? I think that we do.
You know what somebody said tonight ( and, I think, it is said quite often)? They said "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." It should be known that I have also heard it said as "Imitation is the highest form of flattery." You know what - it's not. That's bullshit. People imitate you because they are assholes and/or jealous. If jealousy is a form of flattery then tell Joseph's brothers to give him back his fucking coat already, right?
Sorry - This has been a little scattered.

Listening to Dinner Bell by Wolf Parade

Wow. I am in a foul foul mood. I literally went to work, was told that they didn't need me for the night shift, sent home, and am supposed to be back at 2 am for the early morning shift. So, in other words, I went into work 8 hours early for nothing. I am in a foul mood. Everybody I passed on the street looked the same. They were all staring off into space on their way home from their boring working lives. I am in a foul mood. I dropped a large bottle of water at the grocery store in front of a gangly early twenty year old in ugly Williamsburg Hipster clothes. She gave me a look like I had done it because I was nervous and looking at her. I wanted to tell her she wasn't that hot. Then when I stood up I collided with a guy restocking the shelf. Then when I wanted to grab some cream soda for my roommate I didn't have enough hands to carry everything and one of the shelf stock people had to help me carry it because I didn't get a stupid fucking basket. I am in a foul mood. Everything suddenly went tremendously wide lens and I don't know why, but I think everything is amazingly trivial and beyond repair. I looked to the West when I entered my apartment building and wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of New York City. What is going on? Why do I feel this way!
I am in a foul mood. There are no two ways about it.

Listening to NFL Live on ESPN

Doug Flutie is retiring from the NFL. This tiny little scrappy dude from Massachusetts born under a lucky star. Amazing.





I am not sure if there is much to talk about. I sometimes check on my blog to see if there is anything new posted. There isn't. I woke up at 9 am this morning to pouring rain and overcast sky. I went back to sleep. I think I am going through a little bit of a success hangover. After getting a lot of attention from three or so spots I landed there hasn't been much else going on. So now I am beginning to feel the wheels spinning. Last night I walked into my apartment and felt incredibly dissatisfied. When we moved into my place, my roommate and I, we decided that she would have the larger bedroom. When I came home from work I thought that maybe ... sigh. Here I go again. Grass is greener, right? I think things have been a little stagnant at work, for some reason I am resisting lining up my plans for the several weddings I have to attend this summer, and not really thinking about an impending family vacation this August. Is there something missing? I think that I have been really unfulfilled by my working life lately. Sometimes I imagine that something will come along, some strange stroke of luck that will enable me to sustain some kind of creative happiness. I don't know. It just gets more and more difficult to keep chasing after something that is completely contingent upon other people's subjective decisions. And you see lofty dreams slowly dissipate in the face of every day life and its demands. And I don't even have any real demands! Maybe I am just getting older and I am ... I don't know what I am...
It's kind of like 40 year old Virgin - maybe eventually the big payoff will happen. Sigh. I don't know. That was probably the worst analogy I could have ever come up with. Yeah...
I have to work a private party tonight from 2 am until 6 am. Not exactly my favorite thing to do. My sleep cycle is getting all fucked up, I haven't spoken to any of my friends in a long time. Haven't seen or petted a dog in a long time. I think I am even getting bored with masturbation. Wow. Good times, good times. I need a vacation from myself. Ever think about that? It's a huge city. Ever think about creating an entirely different persona? Just going out, dressing differently, acting differently? I have been thinking about that lately. Think about buying a motorcycle. Taking a year off. Traveling. Seeing more than just this city that i have been in for the past 6 years. There are no sheets on my bed. Bad sign. I haven't shaved in days. Another bad sign. All I have eaten over the past three days are a caesar salad, salami, cheese and triscuits, bacon, and sweet and sour chicken. Bad sign.
I am not in a particularly bad mood. I am just trying to categorically list some things that .. . No - I don't really know what I am trying to do. Just trying to unscramble some things that have been swirling around my head. Or, trying to make sense of the nothing that is not swirling around my head.

Listening to Rio by Duran Duran

Okay. AHAHAHAHA. I just got an e-mail from this voice over community building workshop thing I did. I play this Phillipino kid named "Ty." Check it out. http://organizinggame.org/ Play the game where it says "Launch The Game." It's kinda funny and a whole lot of weird. I am going to be responsible for a ton of cults in Southern California. Enjoy!

Listening to Everyone's A VIP To Someone by the Go! Team

I am a snob. When it comes to music I am a huge snob. I will judge a person by the type of music they listen to. When they listened too it. How little or how much they care about it. Millions of reason. I had an old stress dream last night. Except this time it was different. In this dream I was surrounded by people I presently work with.And I had to buss tables instead of serve them. And I got to walk around the restaurant and rap Blood Of Abraham songs. Very odd. It was like everyone at my new job was transplanted to the restaurant where I use to work. Funny thing is, I never use to buss there. Whatever.
I have been looking around for a new pair of jeans. I found a pair yesterday at Urban Outfitter's $178.00. Um... I don't think I can pay that. Well. I can. I just don't want to. It seems a little exorbitant, right? just have this one pair of jeans that i have had for a couple of years now. I bought them right after I lost all this weigh because I was sick. And I love them. There's a hole in one knee, I had a woman sew together the crotch after I blew it out. I mean really, these jeans have been through a lot. And I did pay over $100 buck for 'em. But not a whole lot over $100.
Okay. This has gotten kind of dumb.
I got a call this morning from my old management team. I guess they don't think that they are my "old" management team, but they really do suck. The auditions that they use to send me out on were pretty shady. And now they call at 12 noon to ask if I want to go out on an audition. I suppose I should call them back. Whatever. When I gave them my original resume I put all of this shit on it that I was not qualified to do. Like speak with a french accent. Now they call me once a year or so and send me out on some weirdly specialized audition. It's bizarre. Well - they are bizarre. They are these two Upper West side ladies who I guess had a lot of time on their hands and liked to go to shows but have no idea what acting is about. And so they started their own little management team. Sigh. I'm gonna go call them back right now.

Listening to ESPN

Is there anything sweeter than a Red Sox win over the Yankees? Especially when it comes at the hands of two (count 'em), TWO A-Rod errors. I don't think so.
Been feeling insecure lately. Not really sure why. Just haven't really felt like myself. Been sort of wandering around with a head full of fuzz. I think I may be burning my candle at both ends. I have had to work a lot lately. Been up early for auditions. Been sort of looking around a little bit and not seeing how I fit in. It's okay. I just woke up the past couple of mornings and felt two things simultaneously. One was that I was positive it was the next day. I.E. it was Monday and I felt like it was Tuesday. The other was that it was January. Which is a very bad thing. I have been trying to better understand myself through a wide lens of happiness and depression, relationships and seasonal changes. And January through February are almost always lonely and dark months when I feel at my lowest. When I woke up in my bed positive that it was January I knew that something was amiss. Sigh.
But now the Boys of Summer are here and my birthday is just a few short months away. I am not sure if things are going to be super great, but they really don't look to be all that bad. A few weddings to get to. A couple of large commercial paychecks coming my way. There are a lot of things I am looking forward to. Plus my fantasy novel is turning out all right. I'm on a different one now. That George R.R. Martin ended like (insert farting noise here).

Listening To Alive and Kicking by Simple Minds

Now it's 1 pm and minutes before I have to leave for work in Brooklyn. WARNING: THE FOLLOWING BLOG ENTRY IS GOING TO BE REPULSIVELY GRAPHIC AND HONEST IN ITS CONTENT. IF YOU ARE EXPERIENCING A WEAK STOMACH, RECENTLY PREGNANT, OR OTHERWISE UNABLE TO HANDLE CONTENT RELATING TO FECES, OR ... WELL REALLY JUST FECES, PLEASE SKIP THE NEXT PARAGRAPH.
I think that my leat favorite part about being hungover would have to be the morning poop. All I can really think about is a champagne bottle. The first poop you have is like the cork. NIce and satisfying and solid, a resounding "pop," and all you can think about is how the rest is going to continue that way. But no. Oh no no no. The rest always ends up coming out like an expensive frothy mess. Foaming out of your bum like a cheap bottle of, well, bubbly. And i have done everything I could to prevent it. I think I ate a block and a half of cheese before I went to sleep last night. I definitely did not eat ... what is that?. .. peanuts? Jalepenos? I mean - there is definitely a burning sensation going on right now. I warned you. Don't say I didn't.
And how is it that our rational mind has no answers for battling our hangover? Do you know what my answer to getting over the losing battle I am having with Jack Daniels right now? I went to my fridge looking for something, really anything, to drink to re-hydrate. I found expired milk and thought "Hey! I can save it if I add chocolate syrup. Chocolate syrup has preservatives!" So I made expired chocolate and drank it. Then I had a vanilla creme soda and an Advil. All of this because my hungover mind thought "Hey - expired milk, creme soda, and advil! That's what we need! YAY!" Um ... No. No it's not.
And the worst is the hangover shower. Like it really does anything. It doesn't feel good. And I never want the water to touch my face. When i'm hungover it freaks me out. Weird, right? Sometimes I take a freezing cold shower. Like if I am really hungover (drunk still, actually) and I have to go in to work or something after an hour's worth of sleep. I hate having that sticky skin feeling. That stink like booze thing. And none of your clothes feel comfortable. And if you have one cigarette the next day the hangover comes pounding back like a ferocious rabid tiger. Sigh. I'll get back to you in a few hours.

Listening to ..... the hum of my refrigerator

Why is 'The History Of Violence' such a good movie? And why does Jack Daniels and Coke taste so good sometimes? How come I can never find a reason to wear underwear on my day off? Why don't flip - flops have more arch support? Where have all the cowboys gone? How come beets make your poo red but not your pee? If he who hesitates is lost, why do we look before we leap?
Ah questions, questions, questions... What would life be without questions? Or what would questions be without life? The very nature of discourse and philosophy is dependent upon observation and question. The eternal realtionship. What would they be without each other? Where would we be without it? The state of Zen is simply the ability to train yourself out of asking the questions that ruin tranquility. A calmness of the mind.
Sweet sweet questions. Let them all go to sleep. Let them pass from my mind like the empty whispers of forgotten daydreams. Another time. For now my pillow beckons.
Side notes: Alex - everything will be all right. You know that and I know that. Susie - Happy birthday. I'm sorry that I was so callous and forgot about it. I need to make sure that we find some time in the next couple of weeks to go out. Abraham Lincoln - I'm sorry you're dead. It went down in a pretty messed up way. You did a lot of good things and we could probably use someone who wasn't a "career politician" again. But what are the chances of that happening? Mom - I hope you're not reading this. No, seriously. I hope you're not reading this.

Listening to How Could You Want Him (When You Know You Could Have Me?) by The Spin Doctors

What is the power of associative memory? Can it be overcome? Is it different for different people? Is it Aural for some people and olfactory for others? I have always loved music and associated certain songs with certain people. As I was lying awake the other night it occurred to me how powerful some of these songs can become. And then it occurred to me that there were times in my life that I had empowered songs to mean something. And then given the song to someone in the hopes that it would mean something to them. Funnily enough, the songs I gave away rarely became as empowered as some of the songs i bumped into along the way.
It was that point in the night, after flipping my pillow to get at the cool underside, that I found myself wanting to reclaim ownership of all these songs. I realized that at some point my viewpoint had changed, that because of the associative power of these songs I had allowed myself to believe that these songs "belonged" to certain people. Now, of course the songs are associated with them, but they are MY memories. And I should have emotional ownership of the songs. It was a weird Goonies moment: "I'm taking them back! I'm taking them all back!"
I shouldn't be afraid of them. I mean, I downloaded them onto my iPod anyway. Regardless of how I felt about the people that I attached them too. Some of them are silly, but really powerful. I will always associate that terrible Billy Joel song "Big Shot" with my father. I used to ride in the front seat with him, or maybe it was just once, and he didn't know any of the words but he would always poke me in the chest and say "Big Shot, Dont'cha!" and for some reason I thought that meant I was really cool. Turns out the song is about a cocaine addicted whore. Amazing what the loving eyes of a six year old can do. That's one example. There are plenty of others. Probably more intimate. Another time maybe.
As for fading, it never really does. I am sure that when I smell my mother's perfume or my dad's cologne years from now it will be just as powerful a reminder of them as any of the songs i associate with them. On a side note, it is remarkable how many young women in New York wear the same perfume as my Grandmother. Either she is very hip or they are ... well ... forget about it.

Listening to the Red Sox game on ESPN

Fuck. The Sox just lost. Angel Hernandez making some shitty fucking calls from behind the plate. I will amend what I wrote about "listening to" above. I am now listening to Van Morrison's Enlightenment. I've loved that album and that title song since I was about 12 years old. Maybe 13. It has this one line "I'm in the here and now and I'm meditating/ And still I'm suffering but that's my problem/ Enlightenment don't know what it is."
As we stumble and fumble and trip and traipse and hide and hurt and heal and hurry through this messy emotional life all we can really hope to do is be as honest with ourselves and the people we care about. Or even the people that we hope to care about. I really believe that in your heart of hearts everyone knows what the right thing to do is. Now, barring any horrific childhood abuse, we can all choose right from wrong. That doesn't mean that it is necessarily easy, it just means that you know. I have seen people do evil things. I have heard of people hurting other people without having the slightest intention of doing it. I have done it myself. And I have been hurt too. God bless Wikipedia.
As per the free encyclopedia:

With regard to morality, Kant argued that the source of the good lies not in anything outside the human subject, either in nature or given by God, but rather only in a good will. A good will is one that acts in accordance with universal moral laws that the autonomous human being freely gives itself. These laws obligate people to treat other human beings as ends rather than as (merely) means to an end.

I believe that we should all adhere to a universal moral code that we all know exists and we all understand. So now, to bring this down to the purely egocentric and selfish level that I want, I am trying very hard to be honest with myself and the people around me and it always ends up coming out sour. I am an adult and am continually finding myself at a crossroads between how I feel and how I want other people to feel. I recognize that this is typical. That most of us are afraid of hurting other people. That we don't want to risk hurting anyone, including ourselves, but the risk of something actually working out always spurs us back on. So we set up little ethical boundaries and rules to help us along our way - no dating friends of friends, no dating buddies' exes, no dating people from work. But where does it all lead us? How do we feel at the end of the day? What if our feelings are too powerful? And what about all the missed opportunities? The could have, would have, should have beens? I think that the best thing you can do is to pursue every possible outlet that comes along until you find something that just, well, fits. Until you feel it with all your heart. And, like I have said before, if that naive romantic belief makes you feel nothing then you were better off having dared to feel anything at all.
I don't know what I am trying to get at with this thing. Or rather I am, and I feel like I am avoiding it in case any of the people I feel like I am writing about read this entry. Censoring myself in my own blog! Unbelievable. But maybe there is something to be said about extrapolating your own feelings and making them apply to something that everyone can understand and appreciate. To risk everything is to live without regret. I have never wanted to look back on my life and think "You know what? I should have ..." I would rather feel like "Well, I did, and it may not have worked out the way I wanted it to but at least I gave it a motherfucking try."
As a side note, my friend Susie's Mom reads this blog sometimes and I think she is a really nice lady. I missed a chance to see her this weekend and I kind of just wanted to send Peggy a shout-out. So Peggy, if you are reading this, it was a real bummer that I didn't get to meet you, but your son Rob seems like a really great guy. And I think you know how I feel about Susie - she's just gangbusters. Travel safe and come back soon. And I am sorry about the swearing.