One aspect of being an adult is that when I learn from an experience, the likelihood that it will happen again is variable. Often, it is very small. So I’m learning from my experiences in order to be better prepared to take on totally different experiences. Getting more life experience does not necessarily mean getting better at any one thing; it’s more of an aggregate knowledge. Hypothetically, one could be a great person and be terrible at everything #things-that-may-seem-like-my-goal-but-are-not-my-goal. Anyway, an aggregate-knowledge view of life is either incredibly tiring or wonderfully invigorating. Life is a series of fascinating new experiences that teach an akimbo mental coordination, and it would also be nice if from time to time today had a clear effect on tomorrow. (One of the distinct pleasures of adulthood is being in a totally foreign situation or conversation and having the unnerving insight that I know exactly what to say or do.)
So this bartender’s got a real sense of humor, and he serves Paul a quadruple. Keep in mind that’s I’ve got this big, ugly meeting tomorrow and I can’t be there with him. So Paulie starts to think he can do a front handspring. I guess this is what Paul is like when he’s drunk. He’s making me hold his jacket and trying to find room on the sidewalk to do a front handspring. You can imagine what it’s like when your blackout friend starts looking for running space. All I can think is of his head bleeding and him drunk and not being able to understand why it hurts so much. Dizzying, that possible future.
It turns out he can do it. Really well.
“I just did it! I didn’t think about it, I just did it!”
After that we went on through the humid night in Queens, talking about old hookups and the movie we’re writing.
(for better instructions on making a snow machine: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_mdDbt_1Vc)
Jumpoline Park: the wide blue and green strips are trampolines, and the netted area at the back is trampoline dodgeball.
Ate at this box. French bacon sandwiches and ham and cheese Quasonts. Talked about starting weekend fun tours of Austin, similar to what Matt has been doing in Paris, but more involved. We’re just bouncing some ideas for now, Matt, Jordan and me. Just bouncing away.
I think I’ll start carrying a camera and speaking more slowly. I want to go to the Blanton on Thursday to get ideas for colors to paint my room. I didn’t know Kerry was in Red State; that’s awesome. I’ve been wondering what was the name of that movie, the football movie. Does anyone know if it’s on Netflix?
That’s most of what happened today. Working through Adobe Premiere to make another video for my sister.
Bye Emily! Bye Lex! Bye Paul! David, I hope you are still feeding yourself.
You think they used a real skull in the first production of Hamlet? Probably would have been illegal too, so you know they graverobbed that shit. I wonder how many people in the audience had seen a real, clean skull before, without the anatomy books and articulated skeletons of today’s science classrooms, to say nothing of our grinning Halloween costumes and Scooby Doos. Skulls back then were still associated with death, and had a gruesomeness we really don’t get anymore. To have an actor pick one up and hold it out in front of you, and talk to it! It’s so shocking, it almost breaks the reality of the play. It’s too real. Talk about your special effects—that’s a man’s head. What if I told that’s a real human femur you’re holding? How many plays can you name that require actual human remains? And more than that, I’m going to call you by a different name, whoever you were, Head, and you’re going to be a prop. That metatheatrical bastard Shakespeare doesn’t just have the character confront the reality of life and death (and choose Life (to be)), he asks the audience to take part in the creation of a fictitious life that supersedes ACTUAL DEATH. No more baller move ever.
This is my favorite piece of knowledge I picked up this time around: “Keep Eyes Open.” To the nobody who reads this, there’s more coming to stack around that little kernel of knowledge, and that’s a fun one on its own. That’s where all the fun starts on stage.
Ulysses is so good.
Yeaaaah. Which part, or just all of it?
Even in the first few pages, it’s really beautiful.
Yeah it is.
It’s so frustrating.
Laughing, Jerry reaches across the table to comfort me.
You aren’t going to be the next James Joyce.
I know! That’s not what bothers me. It’s so good, and I’m not like comparing it to other books, I’m not saying I like it because it’s better than everything else. I like it because the writing is beautiful.
Why aren’t there more beautiful writing?
It turns out that the pump wasn’t empty of pump oil, but that the oil was so full that the visual indicator on the front was swimming in it. I couldn’t see the oil line because the oil line was above the indicator entirely.
Point is, the damn thing went deep water horizon on my ass when I opened the bottom to drain the residual. Good thing what I was maintenancing was a power washer, I guess. Tomorrow I’ll make my second trip to the Travis County Household Hazardous Waste Disposal Facility in two days. Anybody want to ride along?
It’s raining in Austin. Hell fraking yesh.
On the plus side, the nozzle I’ve got on the washer is so hardcore I can julienne a wicker chain in 90 seconds. When it freezes here in six months, I’m gonna turn this sucker into a snow machine and my yard into a soaking, freezing ice palace. It’s also giving me a jump start on being a suburban dad, which I don’t have to mention again–I’m hella excited about. My theory is that suburban dads are the weirdest group of people on the planet. I’m pretty sure it’s the only job for which I am really qualified.
Played trivia (placed 9th) at Opal Divine’s. My debit card is a lost gonner. I hope it’s in some shorts at this point, because it ain’t at any of the bars from Friday. Made some friends at Lustre Pearl. Played the best game of foosball that I’ve played in years. They’re really good. I am also, really good. They say they’re also quite a trivia team, so NERDING OUT, I’m gonna bring my A-Game there too.
Scored some found cheapo sunglasses. Everything’s coming up Milhouse. Milhouse is a deity in the pantheon here. 700 feet tall. Childish. When he’s happy, we’re happy. And he’s got flood pants on, which I guess explains the rainstorm. Rain is beautiful. It sounds beautiful. It feels beautiful. It’s impossible to drive in. It raises the watertable and the fish come back and the secret tunnel under the swimming pool gets full and we can use it like a hobo-Schlitterbahn. Mas. Mas. MAS.
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Mom woke me up and asked me to help with the yardwork. I guess it took 30 minutes or so for me to get out of bed. Yesterday was the first day with no cigarettes. I was very careful yesterday to have a minimum of outside stimulus, so I could concentrate carefully of achieving my goal. I read the Princess Bride by William Goldman.
Anyway, Mom got me up and I pulled Milkweed out of the yard because it’s a non-native invasive. I didn’t get the roots on most of them. It’s a stringy and brittle plant, especially when it’s dry. We got an acceptable number of them and then I stacked the rocks that our neighbor gave us when she replaced her patio. We’d had them stacked on the side of the house for a while, but Javier took some to make a patio elsewhere, and they need to be restacked.
We went to lunch at the Taco Deli. I skipped the Cowboy Taco because I’ve eaten it so many days in the past six months that the salsa tastes overwhelming like a foreign salt to me. My mom’s car has been screwing with us for a while, but we managed to get it inspected. All’s good there. About this time, though, the withdrawal kicked in again, and I wasn’t much fun to be around. I don’t trust my thoughts when it comes to drugs of any kind. Sometimes I do, I guess. Caffeine is okay, I guess, and nicotine was too. I trust them a lot more when straight, though. A brain grappling.
We dropped off a broken computer at Goodwill, and went inside to look around. Loafers that didn’t fit, a couch that’s too much money, a computer adapter with one wrong end.
Came home, and fell asleep for a three hours. Woke up feeling much better, but with a manic-ness and self-condemnation I hadn’t felt seriously since I started smoking. It was cool, though. I went for a walk and that took a little of the edge off. Came home and didn’t want to do anything or be anywhere, so I started making dinner. Tuna salad came out well. Hummus did too. The first Republican debates were on for this cycle. Everybody’s got to distance themselves from Obama, it looks like. Everybody made very sure to say he failed. Everybody made sure not to acknowledge the correctness of the other side in any way. Nobody debated. They should have called it The Republican Declaration of Political Identity. I don’t have anything useful to say about it. It may be better to privatize everything. I don’t know very much about economics, and I’m willing to admit it. But I guess if we’re encouraged to vote on values instead of knowledge: The Government (municipal, state or Federal) is willing to go insolvent to make sure you stay alive and happy. Corporations don’t care about anyone but themselves. When it comes to my health, I want the one that will try and keep me alive.
I talked to Paul about the director position I’m applying for. He had some play suggestions – the UT library (the largest play collection in town) has none of them. Talk to him about it tomorrow. Andy and I talked. The next 13 years are the most important. At age 39, we’ll both have done everything we want to do on Earth, and we’ll be leaving it for the realm of new possibility: Space. I agreed to this, y’see. Rudeeeee.
Hey blog, what’s up? I wrote another post. Well, see you later.