Sometimes I just like to write
Thu, Jul 10, 2008
The moon out is kinda cool. Halfsies. Not as hot as last night. Something today gave me something to look forward to. As if. But there it is. Hard to ignore.
In the face of all that’s gone before it, whatever is worth looking forward to may be another illusion, but it may be real. It might be me, building a matrix of unreality again. Who knows.
Whatever the case, it’s nice to be looking ahead beyond the next cigarette. The next nap. Or the next visit from my niece whose presence in my life is the only thing that matters anymore. But that’s another story.
Art is always a part of my life, and sometimes it is my life. Laurie Anderson covering herself in shit ain’t got nothin’ on the Blogger Interrupted Road Show. Tonight the show seems like more than a circus event, to which patrons flock, in order to observe a slow motion train wreck in the perverted voyeurism we’ve all become trained to believe is normality.
Tremont is a nice place. It’s where art and Cleveland tend to meet. Been there a lot lately, but less so more recently. Maybe that means something. Maybe that’s just me wondering about what harbor my ship might find refuge in next.
Anyway….ITunes makes late night blogging more palatable. The wind outside tonight wasn’t strong enough to make anything palatable. I like wind. Feels like it kinda blows everything out of your surroundings, whatever those things tend to be. The stronger the better. Watching thunderstorms scream through our front yard is a highlight of existence these days. Always has been.
Today someone visited who used to live next door. It was odd. Hadn’t seen him in many years, the awkwardness of knowing we’d made out a few times when we were kids was made moreso by the presence of his wife, his 86 year old mother, and 3 kids, who stepped out of the minivan on their trip down memory lane to see the house daddy grew up in. Shaking his hand was all I could do. I decided to go for a walk and a smoke while they all visited with my parents to chit chat. Another layer of perceived normality on the other layers which lay upon the other layers, which cover the truth that somehow only I manage to see.
So what next? Guess that depends, eh?
Popularity: 20% [?]
July 21st, 2008 at 8:26 am
Another layer of perceived normality on the other layers which lay upon the other layers, which cover the truth that somehow only I manage to see?
That sounds like something a 14 year old girl would write in her diary. You know–the kind with the lock on it that you can pick with a paper clip?
Some guy you made out with when you were a kid grew up and had a family. He came back to see his old house. He stopped to visit with old neighors. Most likely, the only “odd” thing about it from his perspective was that you were still there.
A lot of people make out with their neighbors when they’re kids. Sometimes they grow up, move out, and have families. It’s pretty simple. That’s the truth that somehow the rest of us manage to see.
July 21st, 2008 at 11:57 pm
Another layer of perceived normality on the other layers which lay upon the other layers, which cover the truth that somehow only I manage to see.
————————————————
Like the layers of an onion?
Like sands through the hourglass?
Like a mystery, housed in a riddle, wrapped in bacon?
July 23rd, 2008 at 8:05 pm
Layered with chewy Gordita flatbread, a Beef Crunchy Taco and a blend of three melted cheeses in between?
July 26th, 2008 at 2:35 pm
“the truth that somehow only I manage to see.”
Males with HPD usually present problems of identity crisis, disturbed relationships, and lack of impulse control. They have antisocial tendencies and are inclined to exploit physical symptoms as a method of false control. These men are emotionally immature (although they tend to believe the exact opposite), dramatic (although many are adept at covering it up), and shallow (although they tend to believe their feelings are so deep that no other single person could ever understand).