september 4, 2001
"you got to live, yeah, your life
as though you're number one
yeah, you got to live, yeah, your life
and make a point of having some fun" -- lou reed
okay, accepting the fact that this boy-o hit this a decade or so before i submitted the syllables for my brain's approval, i know this song was written for me.
the cleansing necessary for complete reorganization of my tiny little world is going smoothly. coming upon several million items i forgot that i possessed -- methinks i may need a database designed just to keep it all under control. running across old bits of this-n-that, writing that i concocted in fits of disillusionment and vanity, has been amusing -- almost as entertaining as wading through these ol' online files. sometimes i even amaze myself with my charm -- some people call it melodrama, i call it radio free kat.
these naked walls within this space, so carefully designed to comfort and align, is a tad unnerving -- but i'll get over it. i just keep imagining the coziness of my new digs and how strange and wonderful it will be to sleep in that place for the first evening (with windows level with the bed!) and i'm terribly excited. it's not that i don't like this wonderful little basement, it's that i need a new view from which to process bits and pieces -- take a sidelong view at my life and employ several different classes of thesauri in interpretation.
kicking it with the sweet nothings this evening, we began pontificating on what our lives would be like if we had somehow gained a random one hundred million bucks along the way. it went around the table until one of us said, "if i had a hundred million bucks, i'd have a huge wallet." so i replied with, "if i had a million bucks, i'd have a huge stable of men."
for to play parcheesi with
me, of course!
september 1, 2001
it is a peeking morning, miss lu is twitching her tail at the end of the bed, and i have risen from dreams peppered with daily activities, only slightly warped so as to seem discomfortingly realistic during the initial moments of wakefulness. some people interpret the dreaming of one's workplace as a definite sign to jump ship -- i always think of it as my mind's gentle way of prepping me for the day ahead. easing me into it, so that, perhaps, i will suddenly realize midday that i'm not home, warm and cozy 'neath my fleece blankets, but that the cold hard expanse of desk and glittering screen before me are, in fact, actual. maybe both interpretations are correct -- or maybe they're really the same thing, only i don't seem to be disturbed by my mind's trickiness. dreams as religion -- whatever gets me through the day with a grin on my face/spring in my step/lewd comment gurgling on my vocal chords....i'll take it.
i've been organizing all these artful ingredients stowed in the various corners of this house. it's been interesting to run across gallons of unprocessed film and bus tickets from manzanillo to puerto viejo. the moving process is wonderfully cathartic, i feel as if i am standing on the edge of a blank canvas with a royal blue sharpie in hand, pondering at which corner i will drop the point and begin to drag.
sir amit kelly has taken off for san francisco to begin his tutelage in the finer points of the music bidness. he seems hell bent on me visiting and then eventually deciding to stay. although the thought is charming, it really doesn't fit quite into my plans of saving money in order to leave the country & travel the world for awhile. i guess one could say i'm on a two-year plan here at the moment, but in my worrisome way of half-assed kicking myself for courting credit in the straight world, i keep consoling myself by harping on all the other parts of me that mustn't lie unattended during this time. i've begun developing some projects with my pal elisa, who shares disturbingly similar aesthetic tastes with myself, and making tiny musical goals, just to keep my finger in it.
it's been almost four years since i took my substitute evening barista position at speakeasy, and the people there have become my family -- i certainly see them more often than my genetic compatriots. it's good to feel mildly influential, and i do have immense amounts of fun in my job every day. working "en spintron" can sometimes get me down, journalists have a tendency to pretend i'm engaging in a massive multinational cover-up of soaking tylenol tablets in nuclear waste, but i don't much mind their pseudo-investigative journalism. in fact, it kind of amuses me. most often i pity these pent up techie journalistas, who seem to be patently afraid of actually going out into that nasty world and putting their ass on the line to break a story which could potentially improve the lives of millions of people....instead, they just cluck around in cyberspace, determined to sink their teeth into a juicy corporate scam. nothing is more darling, i swear, than employing cynicism as a research tool.
speaking of research, i'm working on a science fiction tale which is requiring me to pick up a few papers on bioengineering. i love finding new pockets of incestuous information, though the halls of academia are nothing if not intimate. sometimes i miss not having gone to a university, it makes me ponder refocusing my goals to include a stint in school. perhaps i'll pick up some night classes this winter to refresh my memory of what a pain in the ass higher education really is. methinks i'm suffering from nostalgia. some writing classes, perhaps, or a critical theory course will put me in my place. yes, i think i just might check it out.