Cookie Generator by Hutta

Nostalgia is acutely painful to me. I am not sure why. When I think about people I miss, or places I’ve been and not likely to return, it hurts quite a bit. Why I would want to see the woman i was in love with in 1986, or a place I lived in for a short time, or an object I lost 15 years ago, is beyond me. Why does my brain do this?

I seem to be developing a shoe fetish. I never was interested in clothes at all before, but now I always want a new pair of shoes. Could I be turning female?

I can remember very clearly the record that made me realize that I was going to be an underground music fan for life; I picked up a copy of Pere Ubu’s “30 Seconds Over Tokyo” in high school because Andrea ‘Enthal played it on the radio on KPFK and it blew my mind.

Short paragraphs like this feed the beast. It’s MTV forever now; people have short attention spans and eat up life in tiny bits like peanut butter cups. No more Proust; it’s all Douglas Coupland now. Or me; I’m cheaper!

I have successfully simplified the martini to: gin from the freezer + olive.

I need love; I need a woman. But with sufficient amounts of macaroni & cheese I can survive without connubial bliss.

30 seconds and a one-way ride
30 seconds and no place to hide
30 seconds over tokyo
30 seconds over tokyo
30 seconds over tokyo

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ulster_fry
2. http://www.ulsterscotsagency.com/ulsterfryheaven.asp
3. 

   Bonus: crisps..

Today I was sort of half-ill and did not go into the office. I did some work from home and then wandered. I went to the ritzy mall and watched the ultra-rich shop. Lots of self-satisfied matrons towing around unhappy daughters on break from college. Went to the coffee shop. Went to the health food store and bought bread & tomatoes. Went back to the coffee shop. Saw, in sequence, my last four crushes-at-a-distance. Managed to speak to one of them.

I’ve had the sensation of a masquerade lately. Everything seems to be a play or dance worked out in advance and not revealed to me until the last moment. Restaurants and bookstores feel like carnival rides. The world is a plastic buffet set out in front of me which I cannot eat. Somewhere a tinny organ is playing.

I’ve been told that this is a frequent symptom of oncoming schizophrenia, but I hope it’s just ennui.

Et in arcadia ego

Happy Wookie Kwanzaa. Or something. Someone get Triumph the Insult Dog over here right quick.

Today’s music on hold while Speakeasy was fixing my rain-soaked DSL included:

Magnetic Fields, “Papa Was a Rodeo”
Assorted Buckleys (Tim and/or Jeff)
Nick Drake
Sandy Denny

It almost sounds like they have a soundtrack setting for “It’s a rainy day in Southern California, you have a cold, and electrical and moisture problems are degrading your network performance.”

Oh great, now it’s the Cowboy Junkies. Someone get me two handfuls of percocets and a jug of rye.

So, during tonight’s conversation the subject of the local Mormons came up. W. perked up and said “Oh, there were 7 Mormon girls on the cheerleading squad when I was a cheerleader. They were insane. They did stuff I still won’t do now!”
cut for sexual content

I spent the day in a state of high sexual energy. I desired to defeat the other ape-men and take their ape-women into my harem. I thought crass thoughts and said rude things and meant them. I resented the success of others. I wanted everything tasty I saw in front of me and I didn’t care how or why I got it. Hello, Id.

Hyde is showing up a lot more lately. It’s a coin flip whether this is good or bad. My Jekyll’s stats are terrible.

The mood tonight was raunchy and sociopathic; I fit in fine.

If I’d felt this way more often when I was 19 I’d be happier today.

Nahh, let’s not warn them. It might cause a problem with tourism.