Also: the rally monkey is back.
Also: I am at work for no reason at all.
Also: the replicant cyberpigs are loose.
My new law is this: The only man who ever lived who didn’t look completely ridiculous in a sailor suit was Steve McQueen. He is still badass in that goofy costume. (See: The Sand Pebbles)
What have we got for entertainment? Cops kicking gypsies on the pavement.
http://mindprod.com/llbio.html
2. Fear of demonic possession. [handled]
Gertrude Stein said about Ezra Pound that “He is a village explainer. Which is fine, if you’re a village.”
I, too, am a Village Explainer. I got it from my father. I rediscovered this last night when I found myself giving the 15 minute history of 19th Century American Religious Movements to someone and thought “Why am I doing this? How do I know this?”
My uncle Richard told me once that it’s a miracle that I escaped the academic world. He should know; he spent a career in a love/hate relationship with being an art professor.
But it’s true. If I could spend an entire life learning things in detail and then explaining them to other people, I’d be happy. I just hated academia because it was too much learning about things I didn’t care about and then explaining them to people who had no interest, which is a lifeless task. If my spiritual life wasn’t such a minefield, I might have become a pastor. If it paid at all, I might have become a computer trainer.
So by default I’ve found my true calling. I’m a dilettante, amateur, flâneur, habitué de café, freelance village explainer. Maybe this is a decent way to grow old.
I’m feeling incompetent. I have tasks to do for work that feel beyond me, and I’ve been unable to handle simple household tasks without causing pratfalls and crashes worthy of Blake Edwards.
Speaking of which, I watched most of a Steven Seagal flick at work yesterday and I have to say the man is the sleeper comic genius of his time. He’s making Pink Panther movies without realizing it. Bravo, auteur naif!
I think I’ll have lasagne for dinner tonight. What do you think?
Today I write the invocation that opens my epic. Today I stretch the canvas for the first of my landscapes. Today I turn the first pot. Today I bang the chisel into the virgin marble as I start the first of my four hundred caryatids. Today, I pen the overture to my opera.
Today I write a hundred first lines to a hundred novels.
Tomorrow will be the same.
Let’s fight terrism! We’ll do this by watching people through binoculars from across the street, harassing kebab vendors, and getting our Middle Eastern politics backwards. Also, running around in circles whacking each other with our batons by accident.
Look guys, just go back to keeping the whores away from Disneyland, okay?
Also, keeping the Mexican out of the City Council.
(bugmenot.com if you can’t get into the LA Times)
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