040910 What would I change? I have abdicated too much. I would not have signed over my balls. 041010 It seems disproportionately easy to kill a mouse. 041310 No matter how morose I make myself, I can never quite shake the surety that I am here because I'm supposed to be; to learn something. 041410 I knew I recognized her the first time I saw her. I just didn't know I would see her again. Also I didn't know she was an angel. Well, I kinda suspected that latter. And then, too, I didn't realize angels were ordinary human beings, and they could make you feel uncomfortable and comforted at the same time, and they could kinda creep you out a little maybe, maybe be a little too religious, but overall make you want to cry because it's been so long, it's been so long, since you just had somebody who could really see your face for what it really is. "Structure for balance." "Choose your battles" is as fundamental as it is difficult: a relic from an alien lifescape where personal effects hold great significance; an upside-down umbrella holding rain ... What will not go on any official report is that I kicked Shawn out not because he was unprepared to conform to the expectations of the testing environment today, but because yesterday he betrayed me. I had thought maybe I could trust him. Now I'm making him pay for my mistake. 041510. Ha. I remember thinking, why couldn't we get rid of the "windows" encumbrance, and just have the screen itself be the multifarious magic window, through which you see whatever you need to see. A mere five years or so later, et voila--the iPad. I know in a year or three I'll be keenly aware of the present specimen's specific limitations. But it's still cool enough right now that I don't care. Amazingly, I have just about zero buyer's remorse on this one. Rare. So. This fucking thing has a text editor in him. Egg salad. And yet, not. Here comes the options creep. Just stop buying apps, and you should be Okay. But the Telegraph.co.uk Shanghai correspondent, Malcolm Moore, reported this month that an 18-year-old female worker at the Foxconn factory that produces iPads became the fourth person in as many weeks to attempt suicide by jumping from one of the factory's buildings. Creepy. Lord have mercy. Our insatiable lust for gadgets. And this one's winking slow and green and black to raise the libidinous havoc of my autosarcophagous neocortex. 041610. Though he'll deny it, the white man gets uncomfortable when the dapper black manager smiles high and tight and big in McDonald's, saying, "Thank you now, you have a great day, good sir!" Why? Because he feels betrayed by the sudden revelation of his sense of generous superiority. "This unusually well-presented black man," he had been subliminally telling himself, "can see that I am unusually progressive and nonjudgmental. His smile is his gift of gratitude for my redemptive enlightenment." Then he walks away to fill his Coke. And realizes that the smile is a put-on, a mask, just like Lawrence Dunbar said, and he thinks he is betrayed by having been served the same distancing falsehood as is served to every other oblivious oppressor who throws down his arrogant money in this barbarous establishment. But the real betrayal is that he had to think that way at all. The true tragedy is his own mistrust of a grin so bright it could light up an entire fast food joint, and still have power left to greet every customer, even the shadiest and shiftiest, with openness and indefatigable cheer. 042110. She said I have to visualize it. Okay. No exhibitionistic confrontations. No lunchroom showdowns. The guy is cool; he observes, waits, takes it all in. Then later you just notice behaviors have changed. One on one talking behind the scenes. Consequences are calmly, firmly doled out. He doesn't panic; doesn't run after their demanding little shows, doesn't respond to their barbarous code of call-outs and put-downs. He approaches problems on his own terms rather than chasing after their fancies. 042710. I am green and loaming. I am in a strange trench. I am in the prime of my middle age, but I am not doing so well, mister Whitman. However, i am not hopeless. I feel alive. And sort of dead. But mostly alive. The asphalt under my feet glows nude and hot. The strange, hot children in this hades I diurnally inhabit give off symbols, cants, and messages from another era: now. Because this is a war, they are real people, unlike any i have ever created before. The stakes are high as Life, and i couldn't care less on purpose. But where one goes on accident-- I am not alone. 042810. Me tell you something. It's a lot more disturbing being a pudgy, middle aged sissy who's allowed himself to become uncomfortable being a sissy, than it was to be a relatively lean sissy in his twenties, experimenting with being comfortable in his own skin. Why has my growth become so retrograde in this regard? 051410 Some things, to be able to do them, you have to think you can do them. You have to be able to imagine yourself looking back and saying "there was a time when i really didn't think I could do this, but...." Do you think you can do it? I'm going to let you answer tomorrow. Take it home and think it over. Because if you answer right now, and say "no I can't," then i guarantee you're going to feel regret. Regret is a necessary thing to feel sometimes, and it can be a good thing in its way. But i would like to be able to spare you this particular regret right now. I would like to be able to. Actually, don't even answer tomorrow. Let your body tell you. Remember packing the space for Dexter, after you had said you were going to leave him behind? 051710. Aaron G: i'm as sober as a kite! 052110. You can't make nerds non-nerdy. You can't make the philistines open-minded. But you can make the nerds strong. And maybe, maybe, maybe you can find a segment of forgiveness for the philistines, and divert some of their energy? 052410. As soon as you encounter just ONE grammatical inefficiency in ambitiously written prose, your trust is undercut dramatically. The author gets you going, establishes himself as an authority, and then BAM. Suddenly you feel as if you don't know him at all, and in fact you aren't sure that you know much of anything anymore. You have been ejected from His loving embrace. Bad writing is the Antichrist. 052510. I'ma smoke me a goof butt. The Panama Canal Zone Report said it was okay. 052910. This roar. This roar of self destruction. This roar of futility behind this veneer of civilization. It's always so close. By the time you get close to a keyboard it's already gone. Especially a new keyboard you can't even really type on. It's always so close. Satisfaction and joy. Anonymity and disappearance. What's the difference really? I'm sure i don't know. Woo hoo. Forty. Woo. Whatevs. I am filled with love and filled with hatred. 060310. Megan, on everyone talking while waiting to be let off the bus in the morning: "It's like a big pile of pigs, all snorting at you." 061710. Why does Slayton put people off so much? And why are some people so careless about how they talk about someone else in public? Your self's reputation in your own mind is a bugbear. You are smart, so to ask a question whose answer might be obvious is self-destructive. How the fuck about all that. How about start over. Today. Right now. Just like you did ten years ago. Just like you'll do in another week or another decade. Start a new game with a new game board, a new character, and new rules. HAVE FUN. I said "I love you," and realized after hanging up that I meant it. That's always so quietly surprising. *** Wow. This is some good weed, or else I've turned into an even bigger pussy. Pussy. Pussy, pussy, pussy. What's wrong with pussy? For the first time in my life, I've really found the next index cards. Well, second time I guess. If you count pigeons as index cards. Which they kinda are. If you think about it. Wow. No I mean really. Wow. Fucking wow. The next index cards turned out to be a Pad. The iPad takes some credit, for existing (and just to say a quick fuck you to the powers that be, I'd like to say, ultimately, thanks Woz). And DraftPad takes some credit, for freeing me from the file. A computer file is such an old in-betweener. This, well, this is.... Pure porn. Now I just need a hermaphrodite. Perhaps my most enduring question: Why do I get gayer when I get high? Every now and then something slips thru the cracks, and a grown-up actually acts like an adult. Fabulousness is dead. I do not want to read any more stories about anyone in TV or LA. Rain, whiskey, pot, and 9 songs. I'm a rich man. A chipmunk in the spotlight of some sunlight dodging leaves The angel of second chances met up with me in a late night donut shop, and said, "how would you like to just go ahead and be a girl now. You know," the angel reminded me with a serious eyebrow, "you used to fantasize about that." the angel paused. "in your twenties." as if i didn't know. But no, i said no. "why?" asked the angel of incredulity. "because i don't want to give up the fine aroma of being a guy, sitting around with other guys, where you can just say horrible stuff you don't really mean. I mean, it sounds dumb, but i just would never want to give that up." I don't know if i could ever explain it to an angel. 062510. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Note: these are not angry fucks. Fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear my god she's fucking gorgeous courage. Honor your own ire. You have crawled on the floor. She keeps me human. The leaves stood out. The inter-leaf sunlight stood out. The grandeur of the trees reasserted itself. The answer to Sherman Alexie's question became clear. I was real real gone. It's courage month. What i said i picked her for is happening. Pandora's hole has been deflowered. Though not literal, zombies flourish. EVERYTHING THAT IS BEAUTIFUL IS DYING, the sign said. Nine years ago when the towers fell, i picked her for an upcoming fight. Us against them. Didn't know who "them" was, still don't. Had a sense though that it was not who everybody thought or said it was. Still do. In any case, so far, she's never let me down. Pretty sure she. Never will. Ever notice how kids always wanna pee in new places? Every girl's birthday is a fucking miracle. All summer, I didn't have a job last year. Women usually know everything. And if one doesn't, her next door neighbor does. Tsfd: this collection originally appeared adorning the walls of esriel's café. The subtext of every conversation about HOW we are going to get fucked up or HOW FUCKED UP we are going to get: WHY do we want to get fucked up? My old lady's not afraid To go to. The next notch. I used to think that pigeons were memories. Now I know what they really are. BUT I'M NOT GOING TO TELL YOU. It's all very mysterious. Very hush-hush. Very as of this moment, if you know what i mean. But i think it has something to do with furious masturbation. I want something to drink besides my own piss. Is that too much to ask? (cue laugh track) 071110. Somehow, close reading must be rewarded. Smoking pot is not interesting, but that doesn't mean you can't smoke it. Language. See if you can do anything about it. Flap buddies. Summer helper. NFG. There's nothing left to do, but to do it. "You had me convinced that you were better than nothing. Now I know better." "Information wants to be free" has not so much really to do with money changing hands, but more with: the greatest ideas want not to be confined by the minds that spawned them. The greatest possible invention is an organism. You lose some precision. Some precision is lost. What do you gain? She asked. Thank God you asked, some phoenix within him said, and he said, 072410. I know way too much about Alison Brawner. 080710. Fruitflies. They'll be gone in the winter, and you won't miss them. And yet, you'll miss them. 08almosttheendofsummer10. This writing app sucks because I'm stuck at the end of the page. And thus we are spat back out at page one. There was something more important to say, but I forgot because I'm drunk and watching Red Dwarf, and summer hasn't quite officially ended yet, but it's on it's last pathetic legs. A smile on your fa 082410. Last night I saw the Crayola toothbrushes stuck up on the mirror like so many quivering arrows after a cartoon ambush, and the bile of my own irritation came back to me; what if my dad had yelled at me like I yell at them? I'm quitting smoking, again. 090510. 092310