Saturday, March 31, 2001

From Barnaby. It's a form letter, but I'm glad to hear from him all the same. Obviously there was some alcohol involved.


well it's a beautiful, sunny day here in taos, nm. who'd have thought i'd be
here through the spring? the birds are singing, the dogs, when clever are
catching and mutilating them mid-tone; love is in the air and i'm not
talking about holding your dysfunctional spouse's head over the toilet on a
saturday night, i'm talking love love. barry white love. fuck it, barry
MANILOW love. love of one's country and love of one's member vomit icecream
ceremony purple haze all through your curls and waves, baby. Luv.

news news, okay, i'll try to stay to the point. harry and sally have, at
long last, announced their love for one another, and although they seem a
little awkward at the moment, all of taos and el prado is relieved,some are
even talking wedding bells.

nico and sher have decided to try the clean life on for size. no-one is
sure what to think but we're all supporting them one hundred and fifty point
0519 percent.

i've agreed to be the godmother to a pair of twins, shawna and bigols, after
witnessing a thrilling week of labor. the mother has sadly left us and to
be honest i can't imagine sticking around to help out should the father go
on another lysterine binge.

baseball practice keeps me sane as always. there's a rumor that we'll be
playing a game or two next weekend, but you know how that goes, especially
now that the bad news bears are out of retirement and linda cordova is in
charge of the schedule. the bias makes me physically ill.

the human termination academy (or "hitman high") has finally agreed to look
over my application. i realize my talent is raw and i'm a little nervous
to hear back (remember getting those really thin letters from unm and santa
fe acupuncture?) but sooner or later, the right school at the right time is
going to recognize what i have to offer the world of shooting and strangling
people.

and as for my love life, it's all in perspective. the past, the present,
the tarot cards, the wasted youth. the mini-skirts, the sour dreams gone
sourererererer, the meg ryans and the teddy pendergrassers. the underbelly
and the over-achievers. the heath bars and the sanity pills, the happy
glance of a rancid, disease-ridden girl gone friendly, the burrito wagon and
the resevoir tip without a chance. by the year of our lord, deuce double o
and a deuce,it's one more time around, send in the clowns. everyone have
fun tonight. everyone wing chun tonight. tighten your seat belt and loosen
your jock strap, the first amendment has seen its day. don't bother calling
until you've found work. break your motherses smile and make me prod. i
mean proud.

slot machines and cigarette kisses,
amen

Jeez, it feels like years since I've been here. I hear that Blogger has been down all day... I was too busy to notice it. You know you're in the thick of heavy research when you have eleven broswer windows open at a time. Sheesh.

My eyes are double with looking at this blasted thing. We did go out to dinner at an extremely unsatisfactory restaurant. Very expensive with all typs of shitty service. You see, we had three waitresses. One was inattentive and neglected us, one was snotty when Livi made a crack that the food took forever (which it did) and the last was (the worst) creepily chatty and familiar, leaning on our table and regaling us witha tale of her first perm. A hundred bucks, and no wine. I should drive by and egg it.

Wednesday, March 28, 2001

Whoo. I am kida buzzed on red wine. Blast off and crash later, I say.
at least this isn't you.
I think that couples need to know how to fight. And how to make that fight productive.

The interesting thing about getting into a fight is that, left to itself, it will keep escalating and escalating. You can find yourself all in a temper and saying things you simply don't mean, yelling and throwing stuff. Once you give into the surge of negativity there is simply no end to it.
But there is an end to it, usually (the exception being my parents; during their marriage they would fight almost nightly, taking stabs at one another and screaming about stuff that had happened years before). At the point that the raw emotional energy is all spent and you find yourselves facing one another and talking about things calmly.
Some people storm out. Some get violent. I'm more of the stick-it-out-and-get-to-the-bottom-of-it kind of guy. These things come up in any relationship.

Tuesday, March 27, 2001

I get spammed all the time. I have had the same email for five years, so I am not pissed about this... my Outlook is a Gordian knot of filters which relegate most mails into the junk file. Penile enlargement, investment opportunities galore (my favorite starts off, "look. We don't want to waste your time, or ours...") and porn, porn porn. But every now and then I'll get a funny one.
Just thought I'd share.

Monday, March 26, 2001

Ah, I feel GREAT. We went and worked out at the gym and really went apeshit. Now I have that rightous wobbly feeling one gets when one has engaged in this type of activity. I still look like a flabby shadow of my former fit self, but I feel fine. We're having omelette for lunch and then I'll be able to get a lot of work done.
Saturday we went out to Henry Fords, a cool 50's steakhouse high on a neighboring hill. There were four of us: Haley, Matt, Haley's friend Jen and myself. We were all sitting around a little table while the piano bar man playing and singing (sounding like a cross between Chet Baker, Willie Nelson and your drunken uncle). We were smoking and drinking martinis. When I smoke, I roll my own cigarettes. I've done this for years and far prefer it. So I thought I'd roll up a little reefer into my cigarette and have a sly Amsterdam-style groove. As Huck Finn said, that warn't good judgment. For one thing, hash is much less reeky than pot. For another, nobody else in the place was smoking anything. And also the clientele was mostly the over-sixty crowd. No sooner had I lit it then Jen and Haley both sat bolt upright and said "Someone is smoking POT in here!" I looked at them with wide eyes and dug in my drink for an ice cube, pressing it into the ember. It was pretty funny, all in all. Waste of bud, though. Ah, well.

Sunday, March 25, 2001

This is it for blogging today. I take it all back. I like our houseguest Matt. He's a brick. I am a freak and a big baby. But not coward enough to delete all the nasty things I wrote. It's all just whining, anyway. This is very American of me (after all, what's the Declaration of Independence but one big bitch session?).