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13 august 2000
----- Thinking abstractly, as I often do when I'm down or lonely or drinking, or all three, I feel that it has come to this: My life now seems nothing more than a piece of demo software, the time-constrained limited edition version of the real thing. Downloaded for free, fully functional, yet without the ability to save or print. "Save," in this case, to understand myself enough to take a snapshot of me, to _know_ myself. Impossible. "Print," in this case, to be able to express what I'm feeling in words, be them in conversation, on paper, or here in pixels. Failure on all three counts. I cannot write about myself, since I know not what's bothering me. Thinking too much turns me inward, forcing me reach out for thoughts of salvation, lest I bury myself within my own morose. ~~~ So I went to the Dume Room. My favorite bar in the world. There I told Blake the bartender that I wanted vodka, and he poured me vodka, in a wine glass, filled to the top, with more leftover in the shaker. (I tipped Blake really well a few months back, and ever since, my drinks have been alcoholic-sized) A few strangers walked in (and me, being a "regular", recognized them as "strangers") and sat down next to me. Within ten minutes, they had engaged me in conversation. There was Dean, a trucker, who I spent most of the evening talking to. He convinced me that I wanted to drive a truck, to the point that I already filled out the form on the USTDS (United States Truck Driver School) website. He said it was a three week school. I said I had three weeks vacation coming. Perfect. It's not that I wanna be a trucker (although who knows?), it's just that I'd like to learn how to drive a truck. I want to know what it feels like to have 12 gears of manual transmission at my disposal, seventy-five feet of cargo behind me. I want to know how to do that. I want to feel it. Somehow, Dean _got_ that. And then he started getting religious on me. Talking about God, and faith, and belief. And it should have been weird, but it wasn't. If anything, I realized something for myself tonight. I used to believe that God is in every one of us. But now I know that every one of us is in God. It's a subtle shift in thinking, but it makes sense. Not being religious, I'll spend no more time on this topic. Dean was there with Mary. If you've ever seen "PeeWee's Big Adventure," picture Large Marge. That's who this woman reminded me of. A kind-hearted woman, girlfriend to Dean, at least thirty years his senior. I liked her immediately. I'm kinda disappointed I didn't get to talk to her longer. Rounding out the trio was Kenny, who Mary and Dean picked up hitchhiking on Pacific Coast Highway. Kenny had the most incredible voice, just like the guy who does those monster truck commercials on the radio, but without the strained effort. A natural talent, and I told him so. I'm going to have my radio-producer friend call him, and I'm just hoping his phone number's good. He said he lived on Colony Road, which is just a few blocks from here. On the way home, I remembered that Colony Road is part of a gated community, right on the ocean, and home to Sting and Pierce Brosnan and the like. If Kenny lives on Colony Road, he's either really rich or really homeless. Like I said, I hope the phone number's good. ~~~ Reaching out for thoughts of salvation... Yesterday, Angel called me and asked me if I wanted to join her to pick up Ice Fairy, who was returning from day camp. How could I refuse. She drove up in her oversized GMC SUV (lord I hate those things) and I hopped into the passenger seat. "I can't see too straight," she said. "Why?" "My husband swallowed my contact lens, so I only have one good eye right now." That was enough for me. I told her to get in the passenger seat and I found myself in the one place I promised myself I'd never be: behind the wheel of a Sport Utility Vehicle. Ugh. So as I drove us through Malibu Canyon towards the camp bus drop-off, I asked her just how her husband had managed to ingest her contact lens. "Well, I forgot to bring my case to the hotel in Hawaii, so I just filled two glasses with saline and put the lenses in there. Then he got up for a drink in the middle of the night, and ..." I nearly lost control of the behemoth vehicle. We got to the elementary school, and the bus was already there. All the kiddies were running out to hug their parents -- it was like a scene from "Meatballs" or something. Ice Fairy ran up to me and jumped into my arms. I almost felt like a father. Very strange. The other parents were looking at me with "who the hell is that guy?" expressions and Angel just shrugged the whole thing off, introducing me as "chuck" from "the band." We drove home arguing over whether or not it was a good idea to put me in full drag at the next gig. Angel (the one who thought of it) seems to think it will be hilarious. Ice Fairy has her doubts. As for me, well, whatever's best for the band... If it'll give me a better understanding of the female psyche, I'm all for it... ~~~ Random historical notes: today is my brother's birthday, and yesterday is the eighth anniversary of my first day as a resident of southern california. No-one's answered either of _my_ last two posts, but the forum seems to be coming back to life. 13 august 1999: : didn't write 13 august 1998: modposternism : Candlelight invites shared sensuality, having a rhythm of its own, a rhythm that can only be matched by the pairing of lovers. [ swim back | email me | swim ahead ] |
