got a new book

on flight to houston, monday 1.12 :

what is it with these planes? even if i were going somewhere exotic - to costa rica, to fiji, to turks and caicos, to indonesia - i would still feel like i'm in some bad 1970s horror flick. 

that's just what i see, when i look up.

well, that and the word 'fuck', which is actually just the word 'flick'. 

what is it about the word 'fuck'? it's very emphatic. it's easy to draw out. you can't draw out 'shit'. shit is very succint. 'Shit' is for transitory things - shit is exactly that - shit. You shit a shit, then you flush, and then the problem is magically removed... at least nowadays it is. Modern plumbing - one of my all-time favorite inventions. That and recorded music. And beds. I still can't figure out who the hell would've started the 'sliced bread' thing. Really? if sliced bread were invented today, you'd probably have to use an infomercial to sell it: "Look how easy this is! You don't even have to use a knife, you lazy fuck!" which brings me back to fuck. I would assume that, before modern plumbing became a hit, and especially during that crazy period when we actually hunted and gathered things, everything was a fuck. Even a shit was a fuck because you didn't have modern plumbing to take away the shit. And in Hunt & Gather days, it was more like the drawn out fuuuucck since you had to find a non-poisonous plant to wipe your ass with, and even then, it was probably a big fucking mess. 

Now that I've properly analyzed the etymology of fuck, I bet shit wasn't even a real word until plumbing was invented. And electronics. Technology has this awesome way of fucking up randomly and always inopportunely that almost always makes you want to say 'shit' instead of 'fuck'. I have no good explanation for this (i.e., maybe it's just me).

So I bought a little notepad over the weekend, as I realized that my desire to write was being inhibited by the nasty taste I get in my mouth lately every time I think of having to sit in front of a computer screen for more than 5 minutes outside of work. 

I hope it doesn't take me more than 5 minutes to type this.

written approx 5 minutes later:

How insignificant is this moment - right now? May I never know? There is no secret to life? Life is just one big secret. Damn the gods for not telling us jack shit.

tues 1.13 :

BRILLIANCY only comes with unhappiness, dissatisfaction. What's there to write about when you're happy? flowers? Are generally boring in black and white. Where's the panache when you haven't been wronged? What great literature have you read that has not been tragic? What article, even? birth is beautiful... death to create birth is majestic. perhaps brilliant? but sad. twisted? there is happiness in tragedies, to be sure.

'i have no idea what i am talking abooout' - radiohead

wed 1.14:

I don't want fake plants. I especially don't want expensive fake plants.

thurs jan 15th:

Never forgo a chance to be with good friends. Had dinner with Mary and Brian tonight - how refreshing after a week of meetings and dinners with ppl i generally don't relate to. Yeah, ok - sure we relate on the most basic of humanities - let's talk death, love, kitchen stoves - ok, we might agree that death is sad and love is an unknown and gas stoves are better than electric. But that's really just enough in common to be annoying.

Fri, Jan 16th:

It must suck to be Dallas, always stuck with a slash and a Fort Worth ... at least lately so it seems.

SUnday 1.18. 2009 :

I had no idea this pen was going to be ... not black.

I get off the plane. I'm in Tampa. For a second, I think, interesting new surroundings. Then I remember that I have been to Tampa before, once before (for silly one-day, first-day new hire orientation), so that maybe I have actually been here before, and maybe this isn't new, new surroundings.

In that same second, I am interposing 2 worlds. 1 being from the book i have been reading about a fictional time traveler and his wife. and 1 being life. Did I just time travel? Where am I? Most importantly, why am I here and ... what now?

I see a happy reunion. The man has happy balloons. One says 'Welcome Home!' The woman, I had been eyeing earlier, questioning her judgment in choosing to wear a small, unnecessarily tight tshirt. She has skinny arms but the stomach not so. But it's cute. They're crying, they're so happy. I hope they can remember that moment for a long time. For them, it is most things. For me, it is almost nothing. And that seems right.