I used to be strictly a metalhead. All about pounding drums and searing guitars. I remember when Saladbar in 10th grade gushed about the cure and I mocked her for it (admittedly we’d disliked each other since, uh, 6th grade or so). Or when Eden first played Kraftwerk for me and I was practically physically ill and demanded he remove that sound from the fucking air. I think I did the same thing with My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult, although we were on our way to the Kitchen Club (back in Teh Day) with Nelly and this was during my deepest darkest depression and anxiety attacks, when I’d quit smoking and my friendship with ‘mo ended. I’d quit smoking a while by then, but was still getting horrible anxiety attacks and acid reflux. This was when prilosec was still prescription before they made a low-dose OTC and I was taking that and it was just Not Helping Very Much. Anyway, my point is, MLWTKK came on the radio (how I’ll never fucking know, a pirate station, I imagine, cos who the fuck would play that on broadcast radio is beyond me. Kudos if it was, their shit must fucking spark together when they walk down the street.) and it was just grating, annoying nonsense. I couldn’t even recognize it as music. I don’t know if that makes any sense. It’s like when you’re looking at a picture or something and you can’t see what it is of, but you can see that it has a shape, it’s just…you can’t make the connection. It took Bert and Lis playing Orbital’s “The Box” for me in the car, smoked up and on the way to Subrageous or Taco Bell or something. God, has it really been 10 years? The creaking door sound when it turns dark ambient is still fucking awesome.
So here’s to music I’ve hated but now insist that is fucking JAWSOME
So. Phlebotomy came back: drink more water. Otherwise I am healthy as a horse.
Been listening to lots of Jeff Buckley lately and playing some on guitar or at least I was until….
The daddy thing. It’s still something I’m having a hard time believing. I mean it’s like the polar opposite of when a bad sudden thing happens — like when there’s a car crash or someone dies or your true love breaks your heart and you cannot believe it — I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around it. Today the Mrs needed a bit of a break so I took her side of the bed next to the crib and let her rest and I still look over and play with his nose and the forehead while he sleeps and coos and twitters and it’s slowly sinking in that I am the cause of and responsible for a tiny little life. It is awesome and brutal.
i posted on facebook about the skullstick and mama sunflower asked for it and picked it up within two hours. sun was less than happy about this, afterwards — “thanks for giving a cursed thing to my mom dave”
i have resurrected a mac (well the drive anyway, the mac itself is fucked but i might make it workable if i can find a mobo for it (unlikely!) and then a new drive.
today i did not go to the book fair, but on the other hand i did get the joy of fixing a flat (two punctures!) and fixing-ish a kitchen faucet that would not turn off.i now know more about faucets than i used to.
i have a lack-of-caffeine headache.
i had a 2 hours on-and-off IM conversation w/ baid about her cervix, her pussy in general (and i’m not talking titilating convo here, i’m talking “perhaps you mistook me for a gyno”) and her menstrual accessory preferrence (cups, surprisingly, not plugs or pads.)
cleaned house. this is actually my favorite thing i have accomplished this week. the disarray was really getting to me. the living room is semi-sane now and the florida is getting there.
got into an argument w/ a classmate last tues and as of today it is resolved. which is good; i tend to brood and i’m glad i don’t need to anymore.
xkcd’s strip today brings up house of leaves by mark z danielewski. which is a genius book. nightmare-causing, take your breath away reading, for real. some of the writing is not as poetic as say harlan ellison’s “speculative fiction” but it’s certainly more claustrophobically horrifying. i finished this book at the bar, the day before my last conversation with the woman i thought was the love of my life. still is? i don’t know. i stopped thinking about it. she’s still the love of my life, but now in the past tense I guess. It’s just one of those things where you associate something with what was happening — e.g. Aphex Twin’s “Selected Ambient Works II” 2nd disc is to me an incredibly erotic piece of music, just because of associations — and House of Leaves is just a picture of a raw gaping wound. It doesn’t hurt, but it reminds me that there was a tender part exposed and hurting.
So but what do you do? How do you just drop it? No one I know who’s gone through hellfire and brimstone can adequately explain. And it’s such a personal, subjective thing. If there’s a universal that I have found in this, it’s that people tend to pull back, reserve more of themselves and give less away. And that’s so horrible, so very sad. But I see it time and again in my friends, and I see it in myself. The nerve numbed, you learn that you don’t know what’s normal anymore, so you learn to not trust yourself to keep from getting hurt.Â
Sterling and I ate sushi, a while ago, and we talked about it, again. Except this time she was sober because of the pregnancy, so this time she remembered it I think. And it boils down to: I know it’s not all my fault. But I feel like it is. I blame myself, even though I know it’s not like that. The bitch of it is, I am sure she blames me too. Which is galling, especially considering the condescending attitude she gave me when last we spoke. Really, that’s how I keep my anger going.
So yeah, this started as “look! comic link to awesome book!” and is now about me me me me. Well it’s my blog so fuck you if you don’t like it. Get yr own.
Enjoy this amazing and very entertaining speech by Malcom Gladwell on the lessons of happiness, self-knowlege and hidden desires inherent we can learn from spaghetti sauce:
so eden calls me up. “your favorite person is back in miami.” “would you be friends again…it was a long time ago, he’s a different person, blahblhablhablhablah”
i don’t care anymore. i mean, it would be cool if i could trust people again. it would be nice to be able to make friends without pulling fucking teeth. but nothing’s going to undo that, so why bother? to pretend he wasn’t a bad person? to act like I’m and he’s OK and everything’s cool? I might as well call the bee up and say lets play pool or whatever. which again, pa’ que? i dunno. Eden’s acting like he throws me into a rage, but it’s really kind of worse because i feel nothing. He didn’t care then, so why fake it now? I dont’ get it. Indifference, which man…fuck I tried with that guy man. Afterwards, I mean. I tried the hardest and he just fucking threw it in my fucking face. So karma can take of that, I guess.
also, sun’s mad at me now and i don’t know why. but i guess i’m enough of an asshole that asking for a specific reason is kind of silly. putting me off for weeks with ‘don’t want to talk’ which i know what it’s like but then hangs with tai or mei? girl things, i don’t know. and I don’t even know if it’s me or not. asking just makes it worse without explaining anything.
oh and laurachicken gets brain surgery soonish.
and i find out the sex this weekkkkkkkkkkkkk
finally three days later my leg stopped hurting although last night more stabbing pains. i think about vic, you know. i mean, he was fine that week. put in a full day and we said later and i left him working on some windows shit with W and poof he’s gone. i gotta set things up for in case i shuffle off this mortal coil. I think of Dee and her bloodclot in her leg.
My friends, my family, I me mine. they are all stuck in love. :/
it’s late. i will go to sleep soon, but i am lucky. and i have reason for sadness and guilt and laughter and happiness. I can’t really explain it without giving too much away. And there’s some of the sadness.
Wrote some songs, writing some fiction, making some plans and now Summer coming to a close, sun’s gone, mills’ too in a different way, mei-mei and tai-tai too although we’re in town (but you can’t force someone to be friends, so…). I am perhaps just unlikeable.
My father called me up last week, to tell me about a dream he’d had. My father and I have never spoken of dreams. There were french doors and they opened and Abuelo was there, with his big grin — we’ve all got it really it’s the mark of my family name really — and holding a little boy’s hand, he turned to my father and says “mira que se parece a ti cabezon”. My father was too shocked to say anything. Yesterday was all hectic and doctors and driving but in the end, everything was OK, and we got to hear the heartbeat again. tuntun-tuntun-tunun
Another year, and it gets further away and it hurts less, I guess. Eventually I will be able to stop feeling it at all. And if there were even the slightest bit of genuine sorry, we could be friends. Such a bitter pill. Last night at the big B, rockin’ it with Tai-tai:
me: So I’m sad. tai-tai: Why? me: because it’s the 4th of July. tai-tai: So? me: It’s my anniversary for when my drama-llama bullshit happened. tai-tai: oh. me: I mean, I bet you don’t even remember when the thing with your sister happened. tai-tai: no, I don’t know the day or even the month. I remember where i was and what I was doing. me: but that’s my point. I can’t forget, and even if I did, there’s fucking fireworks to remind me. tai-tai: like a party! YAY!
Another year coming around. I find myself re-evaluating all the shit, good and bad, come my way. I’m doing OK, I guess. There are some causes for sadness, but overall, I can’t complain too hard, really. I enjoy my new job, and despite the death of Vic (or maybe because of?) I am learning more and doing different things, which is something I wanted when I left the old joint. Had Indian for lunch earlier with the dudes from Ye Olde Jobbe and they are in misery full-force. Which sucks. That whole environment is like a kid trying too hard; they want to be a business/enterprise instead of educational/medical — or maybe they think they should be? — and they’re just stressing the wrong things. Be a hardass about what you expect, don’t be a hardass about vanity or chain of command or other bullshit pipe dreams about how to show that the proverbial dick is bigger than the other dudes’. On the bright side, in about 5 to 10 years time, it’s going to be SUCH a premier environment (reputation-wise, for their care and tech etc…workwise, meh…too soon to say and things are too fast-moving to be able to pin down.) Relationship stuff’s worked out, really. Interpersonal drama-llama visits have been avoided. Old friends come back, Eden’s back and I will hopefully soonish find myself making some music with Bunny. I find myself thinking of Cass, wondering if she’s doing OK. My phone calls and emails to her are infrequent and I think awkward for her. I’m hoping this is why she doesn’t reply to emails. I switched back to winamp for playing music (itunes for the ipod still, but winamp is still awesomer) and the queen cover comes up at the oddest fucking moments. Still, she was awesome and that was aside from having the most amazing tits ever. Skeeter’s still pissed at me, but since she won’t answer or pick up, I just leave “wishing you the best” messages every 6 months or so. Mils is here today and gone tomorrow, back with the ex she always will have a spot for, which is kinda good, really. Sun’s comin’ from the tx, and i will be going to tx come august and maybe san fran or canada in the winter? I dunno. The old man’s gonna have multiple surgeries done at once but is putting it off until my sister gives birth, I guess in case he dies. I try not to think about it. Maybe let the vacousness of television numb it down; dr who greys anatomy dexter futurama cooking shows. Some days it’s just so much and some days you just relish in jumping into the fray, you know?
