Saturday, April 05, 2003

Now begins the two or three days of not knowing when to wake up or go to sleep. My body does not like time shifts. I'm already a raging insomniac. Course, it don't make no nevermind when I sleep or rise anymore. That having been said, I never feel good rolling out of bed after 11 am (or before 9 am, for that matter.)
Daylight savings always seems archaic to me. It also seems like I'm sacrificing my schedual for some abstract greater good where children get to play later in the day. Lousy children! Not meaning to sound too curmudgeonly, but the whole thing makes me want to move out onto Desolation Peak with a sundial. The sundial will tell me what time it is. When it is dark, I go to sleep when I'm tired.

Friday, April 04, 2003

Okay, I just thought of Neil Gaiman for the post-Hemingway's death great writers question. So there's got to be some. Can you think of any others?
Maybe writers are doing better mentally in today's world than ever before. Sure, we wouldn't like to think so. But consider this.
Can anybody think of a great writer who commited suicide since like Hemingway or Plath or that period? I mean a really great writer. They used to drop like flies. That brings up questions of `what is suicide', I know. Did Kerouac or Capote commit suicide by their lifestyles?
But really, can anybody think of any? Maybe it's just that all of the wrong people are being published. I mean, if you're in Oprah's club, statistically speaking how likely are you to off yourself? Poet Laureates seem to have it a little too much together, eh what?
Which brings up the question, can anybody think of a really great writer that wasn't alive when Hemingway was? The loonies in writing are all elder statespeople now. Publishing, music, games, movies, it's all the same. Risk is forbidden. Go with what's safe and easily profitable. Could you imagine William Burroughs trying to publish Naked Lunch today? Who knows. Maybe somewhere, the heir in that line is trying, but nobody is listening.

Dr Phil: So tell us the title of this story.

Burroughs: The Man Who Taught His Asshole To Speak.

Dr Phil: Now, calm down, audience. Calm down, ladies. I'm gonna tell Mr. Burroughs exactly what's wrong with him and how he should be living his life.

You don't have to want to kill yourself to be a great artist. But you do have to have some strong energies going on inside. You've got to have an inner tempest to be great.
What the publishing industry needs, and seems to be starving for, is a good dose of lunatics. I nominate myself. I promise to write like a crazy man and behave as poorly as will befit a literary legacy like the one I have coming. I don't know about offing myself. I don't think I have it in me. Maybe I could just disappear like Hunter Thompson's attorney. Cash my check and spread to the four winds.

Thursday, April 03, 2003

I don't know why nobody is buying books from me this week. I haven't sold a lick since last Friday.
I finally got to replant the catnip this morning. Boingo immediately ate a bunch of leaves off of it. Bugsy sniffs, Boingo swallows. It's neat because I go out and eat leaves off the mint plants while Boingo chews catnip.
I got one of the most beautiful books I've ever seen in the mail today. It's "Chapbook for Burnt out Priests, Rabbis and Ministers" by Ray Bradbury. I thought about selling it when I bought it, but when I opened the box I said, "Nope, this one's mine!" It's so crisp, the cover art's gorgeous, and it happens to be Bradbury's, one of my surrogate father figures, collection of spiritual writings. It also happens to have been printed by a smaller press two years ago. Just the right dose of rare.
I stopped by the theater office at Chapman and Bonnie and I vented about the war.
Dr. Shrinker and I talked about how my father's mind games have transferred into my head. Also how hard I am on myself. Also how my lingering guilt over my drug and alcohol excesses of the past are actually a version of the same self destructive behavior. Also how my compassion and patience for others doesn't seem to apply to myself. Also how I'm actually doing pretty good and making a lot of progress.
Niss and I had dinner at her place. We've been working on our playful bickering. We resort to that mode a lot. Problem is that we then go into real bickering when we have a problem and then the majority of our time together is bickering one way or another. So we're trying to be aware of it.
She made boiled spinach, corn on the cob and rice pilaf with little, dried cranberries mixed in. I loved it. I love her cooking.
I came home and read for a while. I don't know if I'm really going to read Mein Kampf like I said. Sure I think it'd be educational to look at somebody try to rationalize a mindset so opposed to the way I see reality, but there's just something about being in that headspace for the week or so it'll take to read it that made me take my bible with me today instead and read some Psalms. Of course, I still have the nice Bradbury to read after I get done ogling it.

Wednesday, April 02, 2003

1) It's gone all cold again. For a few days, I was in shorts at night with the windows open. Right now I'm freezing at my lonely, midnight computer, my knees tight with chill. Rob said it was snowing in New York yesterday. The weather seems so violent lately.

2) Speaking of violence, I've been getting ill and angry over the way news is presented. It's full of lies, bias and presented by people who are much dumber than I am. If I can see a flaw in an intelligent arguement, so much the smarter am I. Looking for the lies and bias in the news is like trying to spot green in my lawn. Charles observed that it would be funny if it weren't for the fact that so many people get their world view from the evening news.
I've also been thinking about how much I've sheltered myself in the past few years. All of this violence really makes me want to vomit. It gives me a feeling in my spine that the world is off kilter, a feeling that makes me want to go read Jane Austen or go to the Ren Faire and ignore the present.
So, I'm thinking about trying to read Mein Kampf again. I tried as a freshman in high school and found it WAY too dense and probably (although I didn't know this at the time) a terrible translation. I wanted to read it then because I had heard so much about the Nazis that I thought I should try and figure out why they did what they did. Now, I've just ranted recently about how there's a growing trend in the idiot community of comparing our current situation to World War II (thanks, Chas, for the adjectives.) Anyone with half a brain knows that this war is like nothing we've ever experienced before.
Sure, there are simularities. Read some Robert Anton Wilson! There are simularities where e'er you want to notice them.
But here's my take on it, and this is a subtle difference between comparing the Nazis with us or them. The Nazis killed people in an attempt to protect a world view. Think about that the next time somebody talks about fighting for freedom or democracy. Who is more dead? That is not to say that we are "like the Nazis" or that Saddam is "like Hitler." No, we are like historical civilizations in a war situtation. My point is that there's a lot of people in glass houses hucking stones about all of this.
Seeing as to how I get the heeby jeebies every time I think of these violent times makes me want to force myself to face the violence, to take it in and react.
I haven't cried over this war yet. But I'm working on breaking the dam.

Tuesday, April 01, 2003

Stomach is better.

The article in the Panther, which is the Chapman University newspaper, came out. I was interviewed about Sweetwater closing. They got the facts right, but assembled them in a strange order. Then there was the horrible ending to the article. They printed this whole article on people losing their jobs from this crack down and the government bullying businesses and creeping fascism. Then they ended with a quote from a DEA official that they called who said that he was sure that our products were used for more than just tobacco. So there you go. The answer is, "Because they say so!"
Government by self-righteousness.

Jerry Garcia didn't like to talk to the media. He knew that they were going to use your words, or something like them, to their own ends. He also knew that the profession required a sleazy disposition. I'm beginning to understand that Jerry was a much smarter guy than one might think. I mean, sure he was a fat, old junky, but he also ran an organization that made more money than IBM.

On a related note, I heard something terribly stupid on the NBC news, which my father is a junky for, tonight. The reported said, and I paraphrase, "There's fear that if there continues to be so many civilian casualities, world opinion might sway against the war."

He really said that.

Sorry for the many days without post. As always there's a good reason. I spent the weekend at Nissa's. Yesterday our modem crapped out. Today I meant to, but it was another one of those days where people keep calling you and keeping you from your work. Which is cool. It's part of why I decided to work at home.
Anyway, this is just a keeping my foot in the door posting. More later tonight, God willing.