Distraction fixation

so thinking about what .... about distraction. see, distracted again. by the girl with the headphones or by the one that's with her. by the song on the radio. or the one in the other room. by my messy room or the mess in my head, like when I just stop and think about electricity and magnets and forget that I'm watching a movie. I'm endlessly distractable. Detached. I can never concentrate on anything. It kills me. I really want to immerse myself in a subject. somethiing really important. and do really well at it. I need to push aside all the bullshit, clear some space in my head. Forget about the little shit that piles up in my field of view. I can't just make myself concentrate, though. It doesn't work that way. It has to be natural. I wouldn't even call it a choice. More like a compulsion. Like if I can get myself really absorbed in something. Something I'm interested in. Then I can concentrate. I can forget about everything else. I need to schedule. Heavily schedule to eliminate distraction. Heavy organization.

Watching porno on their cell phone or taking pictures of others...NO!
-Mayor Blumberg on cell phones in schools

"On the other hand, as a post-modernist in good standing, I need to steal stuff from people all the time."
-Elie Wiesel on copyright law

today=sweet

I feel like when the sun comes out and all of the color pops because it makes more contrast between the dark and the light. That's the way it is in my head today. Apparent contrast between good and bad. Not actually changing the colors, just changing the brightness. Like a fresh coat of paint, but less toxic. I'm not even thinking about the air, which is what I'm usually thinking about.

I hope I don't get old I hope I don't get old OR Selling Out: the Musical

You can call it youthful idealism. Or maybe it's just a bunch of ideas that people give up on because they're afraid. I look at a lot of people older than me--smart people integrity--and the choices they make on a day to day basis aren't necessarily in line with their conscience. I know it's not that they mean to, but they've painted themselves into a corner and the only way out is through the little window labeled "status quo." Mortgage, kids, car payments, the suspicious gaze of their neighbors. All of this adds up to normalcy and submission. A lullaby. It's what keeps us inside at night with the doors locked. It's what makes our white children grow up to fear minorities. It's what makes us, the people, lose control of our society, reducing politics to nothing more than the most boring sport on TV. The Super Bowl is more important than a mid-term election.

This is the disappointment we feel when we get old. We give up on all of the grand ideas for change (however unfinished the idea and arrested our efforts) and that just ain't real fun, man.

Gonna go play some basketball soon if it doesn't rain. Could be pretty fun.

I haven't felt like writing about what's been going on lately. I'm just lazy with it. Like right now I'd much rather read On the Road than be typing this.

That epic day

Battling a sore throat/cough. Sitting here, 1am, after the Lucero/Reputation show listening to The Attic Tapes on vinyl. The bathroom door. Could be Sebastian. It is. I told him about my terrible Lucero show experience. Meathead Long Islanders. All dressed up like they're poor southern trash. Crashing into you, not in a good way, they're all really big dudes. Sticking their arms in the air, blocking your view. Not like in a casual, occassional way. Like constantly sticking their arms up in front of you. Blocking the view and sticking their back in your face. It hurts to think about. I'm done. Not even gonna tell Becky about it in the morning. It's not worth talking about. It did pretty much ruin the show for me. Sucks.

"I ride a bicycle every day life is beautiful" at Montrose Cafe w/ Becky

I finally got to the part of my pile where the identity theft documents are and the postal inspector makes it such a pain to do the report that I'm not doing it. I shredded it. I would spend an hour doing it, they would receive it and file it away and nothing would ever happen.

Tax preparation is one of the great American inefficiencies

Along with automobiles, courts and the military. Taxes are completely ridiculous. The system of taxation doesn't work well at all. It's such an extremely bad business model. It enriches itself through endless amounts of work (i.e., more paid man hours, larger business, thus more high paid managers/presidents/ceos/civil servants) at the expense of hundreds of millions of hours of peoples time. Not to mention the industries of tax preparation and accountancy that exist simply because our taxation system is so complex.

We need money for things like roads and schools and firemen, but why's it gotta be some damned complicated? There's a balance between fairness and cost-effectiveness.

Nicest saturday afternoon yet

I've got the window open, watching the sun move. Typing extremely accurately. Hanging out later with Danielle Robinson, grill some stuff and go to a show with her. I need to get out tonight, see some people and meet some folks. See what's going on, what people are up to. I feel great today, though. Went to TJ's. Groced. That would be an awesome verb. But it would probably mean "to sell groceries," not buy them.

early, almost later than early

Stop trying to put all the pieces together and just let things go. You're bad at telling stories and at reading them. You just don't have an eye for detail. But you see big concepts. Big things. (Read this again tomorrow.) You put the big pieces together without being cheesy. I have trouble with the path too though. Like trying to tie things together for the people listening. Writing history.

So what does this mean? How does it relate to the boxes? Of course, I am referring to the boxes that float around my bedroom with various papers and little objects in them (these objects being my possessions), getting dumped out and gone through and read and put back in other boxes and moved around and dumped out again. This is my life. I can't even sit on the bed. I need to go to bed now.

I need a wall with big, clear plastic bags hanging to store projects and objects out where they can be seen, but still put away.

Be Nice!

Stoop sale at Crystal's today. Sitting on the curb, sun in my eyes. A guy and a girl walk by, she says hi. They're very happy. They cross the street and yell up to a window. A guy sticks his head out the window and they shout back and forth for a while in some European language and then English and the guy in the window says he's been busy because he's in love. They know how to be happy and they aren't afraid to talk about how much it rocks to be happy. What's wrong with that? It's not "cool?" They're happy because they feel comfortable and secure in how they see themselves and other people see them and how they can just walk up and talk to anyone if they want and if they're walking by and make eye contact with someone exchange a pleasant glance they say hi because that makes sense. It makes sense for people to have contact with one another and help each other and just be together, in whatever capacity. It makes sense for us to talk to strangers face to face. It doesn't make sense to talk shit about strangers behind their back. What purpose does that serve? Why bother? Strangers together without pretense. Talking and laughing. It feels wonderful and it's honest. It's honestly what we need.

I need a trip to Europe

Sitting on the curb, sun in my eyes. A guy and a girl walk by, she says hi. They're very happy. They cross the street and yell up to a window. A guy sticks his head out the window and they shout back and forth for a while in some European language and then English and the guy in the window says he's been busy because he's in love. They know how to be happy and they aren't afraid to talk about how much it rocks to be happy. What's wrong with that? It's not "cool?" I've never been concerned with being cool. I've always had different motives for the choices I've made. They're happy because they feel comfortable and secure in their place in society and how they see themselves and other people see them and how they can just walk up and talk to anyone if they want and if they're walking by and make eye contact with someone exchange a pleasant glance they say hi because that makes sense. It makes sense for people to have contact with one another and help each other and just be together, in whatever capacity. It makes sense for us to talk to strangers face to face. It doesn't make sense to talk shit about strangers behind their back. What purpose does that serve? Why bother?

Strangers together without pretense. Talking and laughing. It feels wonderful and it's honest. It's honestly what we need.

Early. Soaking in epsom salt. Went to the CGAD premier party and now I'm trying to express why I'm so uncomfortable around those people. First off, I'm not interested in what I know about them. I can't really relate to where I feel they're coming from, which is a privileged AND indulgent life thus far. I'm against certain entitlements, but not others. Go figure.

Part of my discomfort is clearly aesthetic: clothes, hair, etc. The usual middle school crap. Pretty common insecurity. But isn't it more than aesthetic? I don't feel comfortable dressing like a tool. It's expensive and for what? Yet when others do, I feel inadequate. A lot of things are like that in our society. Expectations about dress and behavior. I suppose that's true in any society. Certain customs are followed somewhat blindly and without regard for their effect on the group.

And of course we have nothing to talk about. We don't find the same things funny, which is vital to making a relationship work, even if the whole thing is just one brief conversation. I think this is partly due to age differences and definitely class/education/culture (not to be confused with "cultural") differences.

I've got an idea!

Use a variac to step down 220v to 120v in a tie in situation (like an air conditioner). Safer and more reliable than using the ground as neutral.

Have you ever noticed how many Shania Twain songs end with exclaimation points?

Chuck Klosterman on commercial country music:
But whenever I go back to my hometown and see the people I grew up with--many of whom are stilll living the same life we all had twelve years ago as high school seniors--I realize that I was very much the exception. Lots of people (in fact, most people) do not dream about morphing their current life into something dramatic and cool and metaphoric. Most people see their life as a a job that they have to finish; if anything, they want their life to only have one meaning. So when they imagine a better existence, it's either completely imaginary (i.e., Toby Keith's Nineteenth-century Lone Ranger fantasy) or staunchly practical (Yearwood's description of the girl who just wants to get married without catching static from her old man). The reason Garth Brooks and Shania Twain have sold roughly 120 million more albums than Bob Dylan and Liz Phair is not because record buyers are all a bunch of blithering idiots; it's because Garth and Shania are simply better at expressing the human condition. They're less talented, but they understand more people.


On Johnny Cash:
...this is also why Cash seems completely credible as a felon: He doesn't want freedom or friendship or Jesus or a new lawyer. He wants coffee.

Strike a Pose, Chuck! You're Still the One!

Mortgages aren't for everyone

I went in late to work again today. No one really notices or cares. Fixed a few things. Got breakfast. Looked around on the internet for some parts. Pretty routine. Cushy. It's trying to snag me. I need to figure out what it is I can and will do and just fucking buckle down and do it. That's it. End of discussion. After I sleep...

And eat...

And hang out...

What the hell. It's so cushy. Just everything. I guess that's how they get you. I mean, you know it's the truth, but you don't really know it until it starts to happen. If you're lucky enough to notice. Or is it the way it should be? Is it the ideal? Just living, in society, peacefully, jobs and routines and lots of problems for lots of people, but mostly you aren't faced with them most of the time so you just go on living like you are and that's it.

I can't believe I like Crystal Light.

So far every new birthday has been welcomed with nothing but trepidation by me. I always think there's going to be some grand realization or drastic change in behavior. A paradigm shift that will grace me with newfound wisdom, the kind only afforded by age. So why trepidation? Because it means you're old, man. Luckily I hadn't really felt like much had shifted since I was 19. Basically I've been living away from my parents since then. Far away. So that's the big thing. Everything else that I've figured out since then I would not attribute to age because I see people much older than me making those same mistakes over and over again.

gotta get up in four hours but i can't be bothered with bed. inside my head and all that. there's china and democracy and islam and nuclear bombs and yr mom. medicine and law and math and history. why we're living such a mystery. metal and wood and rock and flour. shit.

I sort of get it now. Part of this China thing. So they take all that money they earn from making us the things we use and they want the best return on their investment, so what do they do? They buy US Treasury Bonds. Huh? That's like the crappiest, yet most secure place to put your money. But think about it. Buying these bonds is essentially giving the US a huge loan. Floods the US market with capital. Supply goes up, prices go down. Interest rates, that is. It's like when coke prices dropped in Nairobi recently everyone suspects it has to do with a bunch of seized blow that the cops probably leaked out. So anyway, people can borrow more and so they have more money to spend and buy more crap from China. Geeeenius.

There's a blank wall in my room. I took down the world map. Tired of looking at it.I started throwing away things I've had for 15 years, things I thought I'd have forever. When permanent seemed more permanent.

living should trump owning

My ankle hurts. A pickup truck cut me off at Critical Mass and I ran into another cyclist and we went down and I twisted or hyper-extended it or something. I'm not even sure what happened. I just remember yelling at another cyclist that the truck was bearing down on and then it veered toward me and I swerved a little and made contact, my front tire to his rear spokes. Don't remember landing. I remember falling, not landing. That's why I'm not sure if I twisted it or something else. It's definitely twisted. Maybe a sprain or a ... What's the other thing? Not a break, not a sprain... I looked it up, I'm pretty sure I have a "first degree ankle sprain." Sounds good to me.