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Writing Day
Nov. 2nd, 2017 09:26 am"You want to talk now? What do we have to talk about now?" I say.
I still can't shake off the Dr. G. salvation fantasy, even though I understand now that I am just a pathetic joke to him. Old habits die hard, I guess. It's the same with Sugar. She isn't even a twenty-something hottie anymore, and all tattooed up like a convict doing hard time. But, still, I cannot shake off my dream of her. It's worse than 'old habits die hard'. Some old habits are more like zombies. You just can't kill those fuckers.
"And what about ... Gabe?"
Oh, she has a special place in my mental life all right. It's true that I don't have romantic fantasies about her. I guess knowing that she is even older than I am kills that. But, even so, I couldn't lose her even if I wanted to. After all, it is her voice that often informs your voice - that girlfriend-like voice singing in my ear on a happy summer afternoon ... that amazing sunny laughter. The one who almost made my sweetest dreams come true.
* * *
It's another writing day! I know it has only been a couple of days since the last one, but I am feeling it.
"What makes a day a writing day. I know you write a little more, but I don't really get it."
No, that's pretty much it. I just write more. The operational difference is that on a regular day, when the question arises whether to write about something, I effectively put it through a filter: is it really worth trying to pen down? Usually, the answer is no. Usually, almost nothing seems worth trying to write about - just the same old, same old bullshit. On a writing day, however, if the issue comes to mind whether or not to write about this or that, then I kind of skip the filter and just write, like it's something special, rich in meaning and humor and significance.
To further favor the flow of writing, I also don't read my books. It's not a reading day; it's a writing day. I also push aside my Dreamland Football League. That frees up all my time, so that I might as well go ahead and write something (unless I really feel like scrubbing my shower or edging the lawn). Though, it is true that I still feel a need to have a little something to read, to scratch that particular itch. But I limit myself to poems - something quick and sweet, and not many of those. Reading poems, I think, also frees up my verbal creativity, putting me in more of a dreamer mode, helping to draw out of me what little poetry I might have in my soul, maybe.
Remember, I also needed a vehicle to enable me to work on my Old Journal, and I think this is it. Although it is true that I now find it is easy to lose myself in free-association and Twitter prompts all day, this is probably still my best bet to get through that massive disaster that is the distillation of all my wretchedly wasted years.
* * *
Wow, Donna Brazile is turning on Hillary and just took a big bite out of her ass. She alleges that Hillary fixed the contest against Bernie Sanders. I thought she was one of those true believers who would take a bullet for the Clintons. And this in the era of Trump!?
What is this about? It is as though she is being indicted for a crime and is now trying to make a deal with the investigators and prosecutors.
* * *
The CIA released a lot of the documents that they seized from Osama bin Laden (not including his pornography collection, though).
Jeet Heer observes, "So Osama spent his time in man-cave playing video games, pirating movies & airing conspiracy theories. That's like 40% of America!" Another tweeter said, "OSAMA BIN LADEN HAD A STEAM ACCOUNT AND PLAYED FLIPPING COUNTER-STRIKE. THE INTERNET IS CANCELLED."
What, he didn't have fangs and a tail? You didn't think he was human? He was smart and rich, and we trained him to kill Russians. He just expanded on the concept.
[Twitter]
* * *
"You aren't writing as much this time as you did the other day."
Yeah ... well ... today turned in a wank day. And a wank day can eat up a couple of hours like Godzilla eats up Tokyo. It might be better if I didn't schedule writing days on shower days.
"LOL Now what do shower days have to do with anything."
Shower days are more likely to become wank days. When I have to shower anyway, I often feel like I might as well make it worth it and get sweaty and funky - and knock out a wank.
"Yuck, I'm sorry I asked."
No, don't be! That's what writing days are for.
* * *
Speaking on the slowness of the American response to Russian meddling in our elections, Greg Miller of the Washington Post said, "[They] are so worried about each other, the Democrats and Republicans as adversaries, that they can't get around the idea that there is a bigger adversary."
* * *
A conservative tweets, "If serious conservatives throw Trump under the bus, what do we get in return? Religious liberty? Abortion? Taxes? I think we get nothing."
Right Hill Girl responds, "The satisfaction of watching the bus run him over?"
* * *
May 9, 1994
Teri is glad to inform me that Jack has bought her a Mother's Day gift. It's not a diamond necklace or anything, but it is certainly more than I can do, which is nothing, and this is almost certainly the point of her telling me. This is one of those many and subtle ways of hers to try to make me feel bad and get me going with life, to put this in its best light. On the other hand, it could be that she had no other thought than to rub my nose in Jack's social life. Yeah, this sounds like the right note - like putting Clorox in my eyes.
However, she did take me out later that day, and she gave me that hundred dollars she had promised. She then apparently slipped into an odd mood, something suggesting humility and under-appreciation. I saw it as "cheap tactics, petty game-playing." I wrote, "Does she believe that she is thus justified to be aggressive and demeaning." Her problem, given her severely limited intelligence and distorted emotionality, was that she did not know how poor a game she played. She still believed that she was smarter than me. It didn't help, I suppose, that I wasn't smart enough to find my own way in the world, which was something that she at least was able to do, and something which Jack was starting to do.
* * *
The New York Times has a big interview with Michelle Pfeiffer. She was apparently in a hiatus, or a hibernation acting-wise, and now she is out and up, and doing movies. She is also fifty-nine. She looks good - for fifty-nine, and with a lot of expensive artifice. For me, though, it is her performance in "The Fabulous Baker Boys" that will forever be the true Michelle Pfeiffer for me. That and maybe "Into the Night" with Jeff Goldblum.
Googling her, I will keep a couple of lines from her Wikipedia page. A film critic once said that she is "a character actress in a screen siren's body". And Martin Scorsese said, she is "an actress who could portray inner conflict with her eyes and face better than any other film star of her generation."
And maybe I should give "Batman Returns" a watch to see her play Catwoman.
[NYT]
I still can't shake off the Dr. G. salvation fantasy, even though I understand now that I am just a pathetic joke to him. Old habits die hard, I guess. It's the same with Sugar. She isn't even a twenty-something hottie anymore, and all tattooed up like a convict doing hard time. But, still, I cannot shake off my dream of her. It's worse than 'old habits die hard'. Some old habits are more like zombies. You just can't kill those fuckers.
"And what about ... Gabe?"
Oh, she has a special place in my mental life all right. It's true that I don't have romantic fantasies about her. I guess knowing that she is even older than I am kills that. But, even so, I couldn't lose her even if I wanted to. After all, it is her voice that often informs your voice - that girlfriend-like voice singing in my ear on a happy summer afternoon ... that amazing sunny laughter. The one who almost made my sweetest dreams come true.
* * *
It's another writing day! I know it has only been a couple of days since the last one, but I am feeling it.
"What makes a day a writing day. I know you write a little more, but I don't really get it."
No, that's pretty much it. I just write more. The operational difference is that on a regular day, when the question arises whether to write about something, I effectively put it through a filter: is it really worth trying to pen down? Usually, the answer is no. Usually, almost nothing seems worth trying to write about - just the same old, same old bullshit. On a writing day, however, if the issue comes to mind whether or not to write about this or that, then I kind of skip the filter and just write, like it's something special, rich in meaning and humor and significance.
To further favor the flow of writing, I also don't read my books. It's not a reading day; it's a writing day. I also push aside my Dreamland Football League. That frees up all my time, so that I might as well go ahead and write something (unless I really feel like scrubbing my shower or edging the lawn). Though, it is true that I still feel a need to have a little something to read, to scratch that particular itch. But I limit myself to poems - something quick and sweet, and not many of those. Reading poems, I think, also frees up my verbal creativity, putting me in more of a dreamer mode, helping to draw out of me what little poetry I might have in my soul, maybe.
Remember, I also needed a vehicle to enable me to work on my Old Journal, and I think this is it. Although it is true that I now find it is easy to lose myself in free-association and Twitter prompts all day, this is probably still my best bet to get through that massive disaster that is the distillation of all my wretchedly wasted years.
* * *
Wow, Donna Brazile is turning on Hillary and just took a big bite out of her ass. She alleges that Hillary fixed the contest against Bernie Sanders. I thought she was one of those true believers who would take a bullet for the Clintons. And this in the era of Trump!?
What is this about? It is as though she is being indicted for a crime and is now trying to make a deal with the investigators and prosecutors.
* * *
The CIA released a lot of the documents that they seized from Osama bin Laden (not including his pornography collection, though).
Jeet Heer observes, "So Osama spent his time in man-cave playing video games, pirating movies & airing conspiracy theories. That's like 40% of America!" Another tweeter said, "OSAMA BIN LADEN HAD A STEAM ACCOUNT AND PLAYED FLIPPING COUNTER-STRIKE. THE INTERNET IS CANCELLED."
What, he didn't have fangs and a tail? You didn't think he was human? He was smart and rich, and we trained him to kill Russians. He just expanded on the concept.
[Twitter]
* * *
"You aren't writing as much this time as you did the other day."
Yeah ... well ... today turned in a wank day. And a wank day can eat up a couple of hours like Godzilla eats up Tokyo. It might be better if I didn't schedule writing days on shower days.
"LOL Now what do shower days have to do with anything."
Shower days are more likely to become wank days. When I have to shower anyway, I often feel like I might as well make it worth it and get sweaty and funky - and knock out a wank.
"Yuck, I'm sorry I asked."
No, don't be! That's what writing days are for.
* * *
Speaking on the slowness of the American response to Russian meddling in our elections, Greg Miller of the Washington Post said, "[They] are so worried about each other, the Democrats and Republicans as adversaries, that they can't get around the idea that there is a bigger adversary."
* * *
A conservative tweets, "If serious conservatives throw Trump under the bus, what do we get in return? Religious liberty? Abortion? Taxes? I think we get nothing."
Right Hill Girl responds, "The satisfaction of watching the bus run him over?"
* * *
May 9, 1994
Teri is glad to inform me that Jack has bought her a Mother's Day gift. It's not a diamond necklace or anything, but it is certainly more than I can do, which is nothing, and this is almost certainly the point of her telling me. This is one of those many and subtle ways of hers to try to make me feel bad and get me going with life, to put this in its best light. On the other hand, it could be that she had no other thought than to rub my nose in Jack's social life. Yeah, this sounds like the right note - like putting Clorox in my eyes.
However, she did take me out later that day, and she gave me that hundred dollars she had promised. She then apparently slipped into an odd mood, something suggesting humility and under-appreciation. I saw it as "cheap tactics, petty game-playing." I wrote, "Does she believe that she is thus justified to be aggressive and demeaning." Her problem, given her severely limited intelligence and distorted emotionality, was that she did not know how poor a game she played. She still believed that she was smarter than me. It didn't help, I suppose, that I wasn't smart enough to find my own way in the world, which was something that she at least was able to do, and something which Jack was starting to do.
* * *
The New York Times has a big interview with Michelle Pfeiffer. She was apparently in a hiatus, or a hibernation acting-wise, and now she is out and up, and doing movies. She is also fifty-nine. She looks good - for fifty-nine, and with a lot of expensive artifice. For me, though, it is her performance in "The Fabulous Baker Boys" that will forever be the true Michelle Pfeiffer for me. That and maybe "Into the Night" with Jeff Goldblum.
Googling her, I will keep a couple of lines from her Wikipedia page. A film critic once said that she is "a character actress in a screen siren's body". And Martin Scorsese said, she is "an actress who could portray inner conflict with her eyes and face better than any other film star of her generation."
And maybe I should give "Batman Returns" a watch to see her play Catwoman.
[NYT]
