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26 november 2000
----- Walking home from dinner tonight, entering my little beachside haven, this gated community... I'm stealing up the driveway past foreboding signs warning any wayward motorists that they should not tread on said private property, nonetheless I'm calm, and a little but buzzed, as I so rightly deserve for not driving to my place of intoxication. Inside the gatehouse stands Dumber ... As opposed to Dumb, who only works weeknights. I'm walking straight up the center of the driveway, rather surreptitiously, hardly attention-getting. But when I get within ten yards, I feel it, Dumber is staring at me. The heat of his gaze is piercing through the one-size-too-large glasses he's wearing. Not a big deal, I think. So he doesn't recognize me? It's not like I'm a car or anything. There are a million ways I could sneak into this place, let alone the fact that a simple striped gate is not going to heed my progress as a pedestrian. And then, the magical happens. Dumber lifts his hand in a salutatious wave, and raises the gate for my pathetic pedestrian self. The dude actually _recognized_ me, and not only that, but he flicked the switch and gave my foot-wide body a nice fifteen foot wide pathway to navigate. Coolness. How nice. yadayada. uh-huh. Fizzleout up there? Well, how would you feel if you got really stoked about a guardhouse dude lifting a plywood gate for your pedestrian ass? Is this really something for me to get excited about? Or is my life so fucking pathetic that if a bird shit on my bald spot tomorrow I'd probably find some positive signifigance in the event that, in essence, would make me feel special. Ahem. So this afternoon, Brutus and I came up with the setlist for the corporate holiday party. Yes, I'm now supposed to be singing "Brown Eyed Girl," "Honky Tonk Woman," and "Centerfold" in the same set. Hmm, combine those three women and you have my ideal, um, something or another... I guess it would have to do something with making love in the green green grass with a picture-published divorcee from New York City who also happened to be my homeroom homeroom angel. And this all happened behind the stadium... (deep breath, or more like a long sigh) On the bright side, I also get to sing "Pride (in the name of love)". Look out Bono, there's a new sheriff in town... Frankly, I'm much less comfortable, yet much happier, singing my own tunes. ~~~ Strange aside: does phone sex count? (could be an interim solution, though i dunno with who) ~~~ The new Collective Soul disc is cool. Coldplay is even cooler. But remember, when all is said and done, Jack Lukeman will rule the world. Why am I so into music all of a sudden? Must be a reaction to lack of sex. And yet I haven't written a song in months. On the bright side, I've written many song fragments. Maybe I can put them all together like magnetic poetry on an old fridge and ... eh, fuck it. Yeah, I'm in a mood tonight. Did I mention that I saw the most incredible sunset tonight, spiralling down the canyon from Brutus' house. I tried to capture it with the digital camera and failed miserably. Instead I got a mess of slow-shutter blurred headlights and reflectors silhouetted against a tangerine backdrop of whatever. Makes no sense to shoot pictures from behind the wheel. How do you say "I'm going to sleep now" in pig latin? 26 november 1999: : on hiatus til december 26 november 1998: : didn't write 26 november 1997: wetnesday : It seems that El Nino is finally beginning to rear it's little boy's head, and Los Angeles is suffering. [ swim back | email me | swim ahead ] |
