Plain White Day

When I was little, we had an enormous collection of recorded VHS tapes of all kinds of movies and tv shows in our study. In particular, I remember the, I imagine them to be like Clydesdales, HEAVY tapes that must have been six or eight hours long, that my dad would mass-record onto. A string of movies like, Dumbo, Mary Poppins, Volcanoes, My Little Pony, Swiss Family Robinson, Flight of the Navigator. I could sit and watch one of those all day. I think I fast forwarded through Volcanoes pretty much every time, though. It was a little scary.
But I did like the volcano section in Fantasia. That was another one on a tape of six other movies. I think that Star Fairies was on that one at the end. And Care Bears.
But the volcanoes in Fantasia, they looked like they were spewing something delicious. With the rocks crumbling away as the lava poured over them, it was sort of like....meat and cheese or something. Some sort of delicious food made up in my imagination. I wasn't so fond of the part at the end though, where the lava runs into the ocean and there is so much smoke, I suppose it wasn't as appetizing. Like offering someone a steamy cup of water when they're hungry.
It's funny how none of this means anything, but it's all still stored away in there, a totally useless reference. Its only purpose seems to be for passing amusement. I wish it meant something. It would be nice to piece together all these tiny things, strands and bits into some dumb art project. Then could you stand back and say, "Ha! I'm done." No, it sucks because you keep living. Things keep happening and you think, but I have all these things here, look, this book I made, but NO it doesn't matter, things are happening, with or without your bad poetry, your shitty sculpture, your stupid scribblings.
I wonder when I got so pessimistic.

How Lost You Wouldn't Feel

I feel a rush of sentimentality coming on, but I can't help it.

I'm sort of listening in to a couple of girls having a conversation, funny how other people's lives can be unknowingly observed, speculated upon, sympathized with, how often just hearing an exchange or seeing a gesture can turn my own existence into a fluttery, emotional mess.

And I think I've been listening to people a lot today. At lunch. At work. Even when nothing is going on in my life, there are a million thoughts being exchanged, revelations being made, relationships being broken or mended, thousands of, for a lack of a better word, I have to use film's reference to "beats" and, I guess continuing what I started, climaxes, denouements, turning points and resolutions revolving and falling into place, little wheel cogs, little metal gears that I imagine would fall to a concrete floor with a shower of ringing clinks, tiny tiny gears.

See what I mean?

The first girl is sitting with her friend, explaining to her a breakup with her boyfriend. As she talks, her voice falls into a slight tremor at times, like she's holding back more than she can let out. She has taken the tea bag out of her mug and is sifting through its contents, laying out little piles of different herbs and what look like smooth round seeds. She doesn't look at her friend, but is intensely focused on her hands' idle work.

Her friend sits close to her, her eyes never leaving her face, as if she's trying to see past her eyes into what I suppose is HER. Who can tell, really?
There is definitely love there. Good to see that.
And also so amazing, like a synapse popping into alignment, how familiar, deja vu into another life. Makes me wonder if there are these connections with everyone, between everyone. Maybe just that I have turned my head in just that same way as the man in the plaid shirt in the corner, placed my hand on my forehead, exhaled. I feel it's likely.

While I'm thinking about it, who else has drank out of this mug? In a glamorized way, it's a touchstone, connecting trailing strands of existence. But isn't it nice to glamorize. Why not make everything a little more beautiful, a little more bright, even if you may be a fool for it?

What if everyone, for a moment, could pay attention when you say, Hello? and answer in a reverberating chorus, Yes.

I Don't Make Mistakes

When will we wear wigs?
Someone remind me where that's from.

I apologize (to the probably like 2 people who read my blog) for the prolonged absence of new material here. What can I say? I had an aneurysm. It was delicious.

Something I was thinking about today, how when you say "Oh man" it means you're disappointed, when you say "oh boy" it means you're excited, "oh girl" you're about to give someone somewhat condescending advice, and ...."oh woman"...? hmmm. What does it all mean?

Speaking of language, I was recently having a very interesting conversation with a friend about how words, or labels, are really the basis of society in a lot of ways. What's amazing is that words are made up and thus society and culture and everything we deal with on a daily basis is all a giant imaginative complex linked between everyone's heads.
I'm sort of imagining a structure like the one Dr. Manhattan makes on Mars, but bigger and more complex, less spherical, well it's not really that much like it nevermind.

I've recently been compiling a mental list of things that make me happy so that when I go back to my cave of an apartment I don't lose all lust for life and drown myself in my sink. I'm sure pretty much all of these things are universal, but sometimes the most obvious things slip your mind when you feel like God himself is reaching his fucking arm through just to push you down. (The Wretched...anyone?)

Anyway, here are some:


Reading Comics

Especially X-Men. My favorite character is Jean Grey. Appropriately enough, my least favorite is Emma Frost. What a bitch!
Also, I like how this issue actually has nothing to do with Wolverine and Cyclops fighting over Jean, no matter what the cover implies.

Eating
(This is a delicious chocolate cakey dessert I had at Corazon on 5th and Baylor)

I. Love. Food. There is no substitute. And of course, food is always best when you're with other people with whom you can discuss how great food is. If only my stomach was infinite. Or I didn't mind being mistaken for Jabba the Hut.


Flying kites

When it's sunny out, that yellow sunny, there is nothing more I like than to be outside running, watching a colorful frame of nylon soar into a clear sky.

Here is another thing (I already linked this on Frances's blog but it's just so wonderful) that always makes me happy:

It's okay. Let's go to sleep.