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Part of me wants to delete all that rubbish I wrote yesterday, but I'd feel like a hypocrite because I still believe them.
I'm just gonna stand on my fucking soapbox for a little while longer, and hopefully, like The Blair Witch Project, I'll never talk about it again.
Bryan Uyesugi's father should be named Time Man Of The Year. He totally has the right idea. The fucker should have killed himself, and if he didn't have one, someone should have given him a gun to do it.
I'll never forget that movie Damage. Jeremy Irons was having an affair with his son's wife, and when the son found out, an accident happened and the son died, therefore, Jeremy Irons was indirectly responsible. There's a scene in the kitchen with Jeremy Irons' wife, and she's totally grief-stricken about her son's death, and she looks at him (Jeremy) and concerning the affair, she tells him, "When you knew, you should have just killed yourself."
Strange thing related to this whole tragedy; I was reading something on the front page of the Advertiser. They asked a writer on their opinion.
I remember that used to be the rage. Ask a writer for their opinion on some sort of deep, important current event. I haven't seen something like that pop up for a long time. "Gee, if they wrote a book, darn, they must know a lot about human nature."
Just like one of my professors, I feel the absolute last person you should be asking an opinion from is a writer. I mean, as creative artists, fine, go right ahead. But as thinkers? Intellectuals upon moral and social and cultural events? Do they understand the shit that goes on in people's heads and hearts? Definite no. Writers are one of the most fucked up bunches on the planet. The more talented the writer, the more fucked up he/she is. Seriously, people who deal in fiction are the last people you should be turning to. Especially in situations like this. If anything, go talk to bartenders. They're the closest we have to wisdom already.
sigh.
Since this is a journal and not a goddamn soapbox, I should be writing about my day or something, but right now, that feels so dumb. Instead of worrying about getting hired for a job I kinda don't really want, what I seriously wanna do is just try and make as many people smile. That's the only way this world is really gonna fight the dark side.
Too much grief, and anger, and pain will just fucking rot you away. I know I'm pulling a Yoda here but I don't know how else to phrase that thought. Nina once told me "This too shall pass" and I always tried to use it whenever something bad came up. I really want to believe her tonight.
Since it is short story season, I think I'm gonna go work on something that will have absolutely no value beyond being pure entertainment because honestly, this island could use some entertaining already. I don't think I'm gonna do the world any favors by adding to the misery.
Wednesday, November 10, 1999, 6:53 am
Minesweeper is a whole new game on a laptop.
Insomnia.
I notice it's worse when I'm left to my own devices, ie. not having any responsibilities outside of the academic world.
Apparently I didn't get the monkey job. Turns out, Jehovah's Bitch#153; decided to bad mouth me to the person that interviewed me. Granted I think that was a totally bitch-ass thing to do, and I'm sure if this is a just world she will get a karmic comeuppance, but I'm a tad relieved. Not sure I want to work somewhere I tend to frequent as an ordinary person. On top of that, it's a monkey job.
But yeah, I've decided to take a monkey job. I need more time. Just between you and me (I refuse to let Ball And Chain break her arm patting herself over the back), I just have this feeling that now's not the right time. It's just this strange premonition I feel. Kinda like I saw Fight Club and I'm suddenly scared shitless of turning into Edward Norton's character. And there's this whole other ball of snot involving Ball And Chain's new schedule. I don't have to see her till much later at night these days. I wanna enjoy the time to myself for a while. I haven't really been able to cruise for long periods of time by myself, sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes on a bench (in moderation), or browsing at bookstores without worrying about the loudly sighing illiterate next to me... Shit, I haven't been able to really have nights like that for four years. Damn.
And seriously, my fiction writing has been doing a little better. Part of me really really wants a monkey job just so that I won't be intellectually taxed.
Then there's the fact that the funds are slowly running out. I received my first check for fiction ever(!), but it ain't much. I'm not gonna survive the bill period after this one.
Look how whiny I am.
I'm in a really strange mood. It went from a full-blown bad mood, to a case of chronic neurotic apathy. Strange. I get these flightly brain freaks, then I don't feel like worrying much about anything at all. Quite odd.
Could be that Ball And Chain has bored me out of my skull this week too. At one point, I was contemplating playing a game of Warner Brothers Trivial Pursuit with MYSELF while she slept. Then I figured it wouldn't be such a good idea cause I'd probably lose. Go figure.
Gosh, I'm in a seriously odd mood. Not exactly angry, but then what would I be angry at? Not exactly bitter because I'm totally used to being bitter. But not exactly happy either. Strange. I'm at a really strange point I think. I can't shake this feeling that something really odd is coming.
At least I felt a little normal again last night. Stopped by the old workplace and immersed myself in weirdness for a couple hours. Xerox-- Oh shit, I can't name him that! Because of a certain bastard who should be allowed to commit suicide, that character name is now tasteless. Shit. Okay, umm, from now, Xerox's new name is Smokey Dangs.
Umm, yeah, got to smoke with Smokey Dangs who informed me that Rat Girl is getting even more stupid. Something about wanting to sue animals.
Then there's this really strange matter of giving sailors massages. Not sure if I understand, not sure if I want to.
The House On Haunted Hill sucked sucked sucked the big one. Oh shit, I forgot. I saw Dental Chick and The Good Mother at the theater. At an 11:30 pm show no less. Well, a certain someone said that she was busy busy busy transfering all the data and blah blah blah. Then again, a certain someone is probably trying to get back at me cause I couldn't make it to their boyfriend's birthday party even though I was given shit-notice. Not sure if I understand, not sure if I want to. (Is this my new mantra?)
Anyway, here's the rub about that movie. I hear that at the end of the movie after all the credits, there's two more extra minutes of movie. Something about how the extra footage explains a bit more. Since I refuse to ever watch that movie again, by chance, if anyone saw that extra footage, please drop me a line.
