Wednesday, July 22, 2009

I'm sitting here in front of the computer, obviously. I keep wondering what life is supposed to hold for me, where I am going and what I'm supposed to be doing. I wish I could be more Zen and just accept that I am where I'm perfectly supposed to be, but here's the kicker- is wanting more out of life part of a perfect existence? If pain supposedly comes from wanting things, and if life is supposed to be perfect as-is, then isn't wanting things part of that perfection? Is my purpose at the moment to want? And in the end, does it matter? Does it matter that it matters?

From Babylon 5: Hour of the Wolf
G'Kar, (examining a poster of a spastic Daffy Duck) - "I was studying this image. Is it one of his household gods?"
Zack - "That's Daff- Yeah. Well, in a way I suppose it is. It's sort of the Egyptian god of Frustration."
G'Kar - "Most appropriate! Thank you!"

OK, too much caffeine.

I like to lie in bed in the darkness and talk to myself. I answer back in a number of voices - sometimes it's the great late Valentine Dyall, sometimes it's Sylvester McCoy, sometimes it's Leonard Nimoy, and sometimes it's my paternal grandfather. Usually my concerns boil down to Leonard Nimoy saying "You must have faith... that the universe will unfold as it should." (It should be pointed out here that Leonard Nimoy himself has said that his own inner monologue is usually a conversation with Spock. I hope he doesn't mind me stealing him for a bit now and then.)

So what voices are in your head? Come on and share!


Friday, July 17, 2009


Heading out soon. Going to see some minor league baseball tonight, Harry Potter and a friends BBQ tomorrow. Here's hoping everyone has a good one.


Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Manhattan Special

I just got back from my nightly walk listened to some Jim Croce on the mp3 player "Hey tomorrow, you gotta believe that I'm through wastin' what's left of me..." Inhaled some carcinogens and passed some other carcinogen inhalers on my nightly ritual, lung-cancer-bound ships passing in the night. I used to imagine when I was a teenager that I would live in a city and go walking late at night smoking cigarettes except the city was going to be London and I was going to be making television shows and movies, and it's amazing how some things in life work out the way you dreamed it would but its never exactly the same and you can't help but bitch and moan "and I'm gonna go there free like the fool I am and I'll always be, I got a dream, I got a dream... they can change their minds but they can't change me..." We watched Dr. Who & The Army of Ghosts the other night and Joe asked if I believed in ghosts and I said well there hasn't been any proof of dead people contacting us, so they could exist in the same way Bertrand Russell's Teapot exists floating somewhere around the sun all alone in the darkness, but I was stretching the truth because I feel all the ghosts of who I was and who was before me walking around in my head with me. It's been almost thirty years and my grandfather is still in my head along with all my other invisible friends that I dearly miss who keep me company and sometimes I wonder if there's room for me in here.



Good morning my friends, I'm sorry it's been so long.

Once again, I am unemployed. It seems like the contractor just needed work for a few weeks. Why they hired when they didn't have the work, I don't know. Anyway, I have to make myself a constant pain in the ass to the hall to get myself back out again.

One good thing about having a lot of time to think is that I've learned much about life and myself in the past few months. What I've learned is that I know absolutely nothing and it will always surprise me. I came up with a quote I want to be remembered for: "I'm going to go through life convinced that I know everything, so that it can prove me wrong." Sometimes it's strange, sometimes it hurts, but on the whole, it's been pretty darn beautiful.

I spend most of my days writing. I've actually gotten to the second draft of one of my novels (believe it or not, it's not the one I was working on earlier this year) and I'm determined to finish it. It's like some sort of angel got into my head and inspired me. (I like that better than Stephen King's little fairy that lives in his typewriter, but whatever floats your boat. And after the crappy ending of The Dark Tower, he should have given it the boot, IMHO.) Thank you, angel.

Amanda lost (one of her) beloved blue Dollys in summer school. We were able to find another one on E-bay so we'll still have a backup. I don't know how we'd explain that one is in pristine condition while the other has been to hell and back, but maybe like most gifts, the why doesn't matter. The trick is being thankful.

Well that's it for now. Everyone have a great day.