monk222 | Entries tagged with monk

♠
She said, “You ain't living. You're just breathing, Joe.”

“And dreaming. Dreaming of you.”

“Hmph,” she shakes her pretty head, “you're a fool, you know.”

“Never said I wasn't.”

___ ___ ___

Reading noir and listening to sappy love songs will put you in a mood. I kinda like it.

xXx

Current Mood: romantic
Current Music: "I'll String Along with You" - Diana Krall

Current Mood: romantic
Current Music: "I'll String Along with You" - Diana Krall

♠
Maybe the spirit becomes more restless when your nights of sleep become more like a series of naps. Or maybe it is the other way around.

I know that I favor the ghosts of childhood to the grave doubts that now crowd the night between those interrupted sleeps in the middle of the night, the kind of doubts that send a chilling trace of fear down your shrunken spine, doubts about who you are, what you have done or not done, the lost dreams, everything...

But life also has its better moments, those guilty pleasures.

xXx

Current Mood: blah

Current Mood: blah

♠
Monk went back to his first LJ icon for his default icon, the "Strip!" one, and not the converted one claiming dibs on all the babes' panties. He has been romantically thinking about death, and the journal he would be leaving behind. He does not want that 'monkey typing' icon to be the one upfront forever after.

Instead, he likes how the 'strip' icon fairly represents Monk's ideal of himself in his happy place. He is snazzily dressed in jacket and necktie, with a striptease babe performing and standing on his table playing with his eye glasses, and he is staring out from between her spread legs. There is an image that can stand for all eternity.

+++++++

[November 10, 2008]

Oh my, I like this entry so much, I am tempted to go back and make my 'strip' icon the default again. I have since switched to the "memento mori" one, being afraid that the ever-shifting standards of LJ might outlaw it someday when I'm no longer around to change it, and hence get my journal banned and locked away from the adoring public.

Current Mood: mellow
Current Music: the toothless Rott is attacked

Current Mood: mellow
Current Music: the toothless Rott is attacked

♠
We finally got our first hatching of baby birdies, in the last week or so. Monk was concerned that maybe the nest was too contaminated, as it has taken a while for those birds to get busy it seems, and he had noticed that there would be discarded, broken, tiny eggs on the porch.

This year's birds are a lot more skittish. They will not fly to the nest if Monk is outside at all, even if he is far from the porch. Instead, they break off their feeding rounds, and they will 'buzz' Monk, coming in close and giving him a loud, sharp chirp, as if threatening attack.

But judging by the massive quantities of bird shit that Monk has to spray off every morning, everything is fine.

xXx

Current Mood: tired
Current Music: sexier spanish tv

Current Mood: tired
Current Music: sexier spanish tv

♠
While harvesting the news this morning, Monk learns that he is a power user. That sounds about right, heh. Specifically, though, a power user was defined as somebody who checks out an online newspaper about everyday. Of course, this Reuters report was about a study for online newspapers, so that it might be taken as obvious flattery, but we will not let that deter us from taking up the banner.

Sweet e-life! If only this applied to real life as well. Not to mention Monk's sex life. I can imagine it now...

“Whoa!” girl one exclaims. “You got a date with Monk tonight!?”

“Uh, yeah,” answers girl two. “Why?”

“In case you don't know, Monk is a power user,” girl one nods knowingly. “You are likely to be one sore little girlie tomorrow!”

xXx

Current Mood: amused
Current Music: on and on...

Current Mood: amused
Current Music: on and on...

♠
“Lying is the most fun a woman can have without taking off her clothes. But it's even better if she does.”

~
Coming out of the nasty little mouth of a hot stripper, this is another mean quote from that sexually provocative movie, Closer.

This is mainly about trotting out my new icon. It seems to really capture the inner me with my twisted ideas of love - something sublime yet wickedly perverted.

The icon, by the way, was created by

so_new, and it is a contest winner at

eviltera_iconz.

xXx

Current Mood: bouncy
Current Music: twittering birds

so_new, and it is a contest winner at

eviltera_iconz.

xXx

Current Mood: bouncy
Current Music: twittering birds

♠
The next morning it was drizzling, a warm fine rain like spray from a garden-sprinkler. I got up feeling sharp and rested, and stood looking out of the windows. I felt as full of life as a pack of sled-dogs.

We got up and breakfasted on a pot of Mexican mixture and a couple of cigarettes. I think I was even whistling as I shaved. She came into the bathroom and stood looking at me. We seemed to be doing a lot of that.

-- Berlin Noir by Philip Kerr

This perhaps seemingly random passage from today's fiction reading just landed on a soft spot in Monk's heart, like a joyous riff that could have come straight from his dandelion dreams.

xXx

Current Mood: disappointed
Current Music: Tree and Annie Talking Outside

Current Mood: disappointed
Current Music: Tree and Annie Talking Outside

♠
I actually find Superbowl Day to be worse than Valentine's Day. Love is always largely about luck anyway. But there is no reason not to be interested in what may be America's greatest sporting event, even hearing neighbors up and down the street shouting and ooohing and ahhhing. It's like helping the terrorists to win, heh.

Then, when Monk tunes in during his reading break, instead of listening to Elvis or love songs, hoping against hope to catch a sexy commercial, he sees a soda can starring in a run of the celebrated ads. Yeah, that's much better than boobs.

Well, I guess it is not utterly unreasonable to try to keep this as a family day, something for the kids, and something not to needlessly aggravate the women. After all, one can catch the game at topless joints and have it all, so to speak. But it does go to show that the best things in life aren't free.

xXx

Current Mood: blah
Current Music: Sunday hi 30s/hi 70s

Current Mood: blah
Current Music: Sunday hi 30s/hi 70s

♠
Looking into the bathroom mirrow, pressing back his forever-untamed hair with both hands, Monk mutters, "I'm so tired of looking at my face."

**********

One of the advantages of getting a new book of poetry in the last order is the new eagerness in getting through Kazantzakis, but at some 200 pages away from the end, and reading only about a half-dozen pages a day, we are still over a month away from the end.

Neverthemore, it is that joy of anticipation that puts a little shine in one's eyes and a little strut in the stride, looking forward to tomorrow, hungering to live longer, finding and waiting for a new love. Oh, it is hardly a pretty face at the other end of the line, but you take what you can get in this world.

**********

“My son, I too watch Death before me night and day;
the proudest joy which now unites us here on earth
is that we've emptied both our hearts of gods and hope,
yet you sink nerveless to the ground, for loneliness
has driven you wild, and freedom cleaves your head in two.
But I hold Death like a black banner and march on!
When I drink water my mind cools to its deep roots,
for I know joy is fleeting and does not return;
I munch bread and rejoice to know that I cast crumbs
in my frail body's furnace that my soul may blaze;
I take my joy of woman till the whole earth laughs
and nestles sweetly in my arms, in haste to feel
before I die, my sacred heir stir in her womb.
Death is the salt that gives to life its tasty sting!”

-- The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel by Nikos Kazantzakis

xXx

Current Mood: calm
Current Music: Sunny Sunday lo 40s/hi 70s

Current Mood: calm
Current Music: Sunny Sunday lo 40s/hi 70s

♠
“All right about the money. I heard you. I'll get some money. Unless you'd rather be paid in this?” she said, flicking at one of her buttons. “I told you, it's not very good.”

“I wouldn't mind finding out for myself,” I said, “but whether it's good or lousy, it won't pay my rent. How about giving some to my landlord once a week?”

“How ugly a man's your landlord?”

“About like me.”

“I'll get some money.”

I grinned. “Better. Much better. It was a dirty crack anyway. You're worth at least a month's rent at that dump.”

“Why Mr. Corson, you say the sweetest things.”

-- Fade to Blonde by Max Phillips

Monk finds his peace and contentment in the unlikeliest places these days, in this universe of noir fiction, where the heroes are mean in an even meaner world, and where the dames are beautiful and easy but fatal. It's porn without the mess. And life without living.

( BANG, BANG, you're dead )

xXx

Current Mood: drained
Current Music: a grey hollow day

Current Mood: drained
Current Music: a grey hollow day

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Monk

Entries tagged with monk

Breathing

Breathing

Monk Nights

Monk Nights

My Happy Place

My Happy Place

First Hatching

First Hatching

Monk: Power User!