chapter six: the right profile

bought a pair of converse all stars, which would any other day of the year be shit-terrible luck for me, but it's the first day of winter, it's like multiplying negative numbers.

why am I so dizzy?

spoke to a friend about hitting your creative zenith. "it happens around age 23," he said. it might have been 27, actually. when I'm 23, I'll say it was 23. four years later, I'll maintain it was 27.

still wondering about a novel. (churn, churn, churn.) I think I'll do an independant study next semester, just for the symmetry of the thing.

feel like learning how to drive a big mac truck. don't know why. won't ask why. will go to sleep and this desire to drive a truck will disappear. when I wake up tomorrow, I will no longer want to drive a mac truck. how subtle. so kafkian.

dizzy is such a good word. "I'm Getting Dizzy" was the title of this shit-terrible poem- I wanted to punch the guy who wrote it for stealing that word/ title. off to reclaim my dizziness. the gas station was out of regular &medium-grade gas, so I got premium, and have not noticed anything different about my car. off to drunk trucks and lumps of gods or gasoline.

chapter five: hands rubbing against each other

I wonder sometimes what it is to be immortal, which is a silly thing to wonder since I know already, because I'm young and healthy, no cancer in my gut yet, no stiffness in my joints or murmur in my heart, and that's as close to deathless as life can get.

Pride goes before a fall. {I collect all my irony in a big plastic barrel and make bets with my landlord over the exact moment when it ferments into wine.}

Advice from Austin: Never mix your wines.

Thanks, Austin.

chapter four: lost my hat

I used to have the best hat in the world, wool, brown, fit my head just right. And my hair is usually nuts if I don't wear a hat to flatten it out, and guess what it is today.

I'm not usually bothered by something so inconsequential as a missing knit cap, but this was a special hat. Every knit cap I get is like a brand new start for me. I pull it over my head and think and stick a pair of ear phones over it and aviator sunglasses and write until I run out of words. Of course they have nothing to do with my writing, and of course the idea that the thoughts brush off on them, run out my ears and seep up the fabric, it's absurd, but here I am, blogging about a missing thinking cap. It's no big deal. There are a lot of hats out there.

I was thinking about getting a cowboy hat this time, instead of returning to my old standby, the knit skull cap, like a head sock, but I couldn't fit head phones around it. So nil on that.

I keep clacking onto this story about an omniscient man vacationing in Martha's Vineyard, and I'm wondering when I'll run out of tricks/ when it'll stop being interesting. Will it happen sooner now that I've lost my hat? (Odd pot phenomenon: you stay baked longer if you're wearing a hat.)

I'll find out about my colleges soon. God, it would suck to be wait listed.

chapter three: kilograms

I want to find seventy stones, a boat and a river and weigh myself. I get in first, and see if I sink. If I do, the rest isn't important, because I can't swim, and since a life jacket would throw things off, I'll probably drown.

Then I'll fill up the boat (assuming it isn't doing a coffin impression at the bottom of the river) with the stones, and if it sinks, it'll mean I weigh seventy stones.

I heard a story about a wise king trying to figure out how much his elephant weighed in the same manner. This story made no sense. How would you get the elephant on the boat? If it got on, how would you get the boat in the river? How would you get it back out again?

It's a confusing, misfortunate fairy-tale. Anyways, finals week is almost over (except next Monday, which somebody- cough, guidance, cough cough- decided is a part of this week) and I'm pretty much square in all but two of my classes, one of which wants two papers from me in the following, mmm, day and a half. Which is totally within the realm of possibility, considering I have none of the research materials I'd need to write the papers, and no time left to gather them.

What was I doing last week that was so important? Oh yeah, editing "Exorcism." (Link to that story will be provided as soon as it is published- at which time, this bit of the blog will be removed. Work in progress, folks. Look on and admire.)

Anyways, more research papers, blah, blah, evo. devo.

chapter two: how telling

I had a dream that I was driving home from school and listening to talk radio, and I heard that Mitt Romney won the Iowa caucus. I got excited about that and started speeding, and a second later this cop pulled me over, except the cop was Rudy Giuliani.

I get a weird vibe from him. If I were in grade school with him, I'd expect him to try and steal my lunch money or something.

That's pretty depressing, actually- I can't even dream about being irresponsible without something bad happening.

More later. maybe I'll write something and make a category or two.

chapter one: I begin a pilgrimage

so most of these things die in infancy. we'll see what happens.

I have to get up in the morning, and finals are pretty much over at the end of the week, we'll see what happens during intercession. I love college.

I'm tempted to put myself on some kind of training regimen while classes are out for how much I write- I have stories kicking around in my head which demand at least a bit of my attention when I have nothing better to do than busboy around Texas Roadhouse. hopefully I will get that job. we will see.

but, to start off, I'd like to say I'll try to avoid the pitfalls of blogging- giving in to my own pretension, taking myself seriously instead of what I write, you know, you know.

Maybe another blog thing tomorrow, after I change the background, it's way too bright. this site is weird.