Friday, July 02, 2004

It turned into a big day without much effort on my part.

I got up, did the post office and grocery store thing. I also went to get new envelopes for my business. You know I ship like every other day and I go through envelopes quickly. So, today I found, being in a part of the country that the mythical Ecotopia comprised, that the big nasty chain office supply store up here sells 100% recycled paper envelopes for about twenty cents more than the regular manila envelopes that I usually get. The package also claimed "40% less post-consumer waste." But it didn't say 40% less than what. I bought it with the realization that I might be getting screwed by advertising that preys on my social conscience. I've resolved to do research and figure out if the envelopes really are any better for the environment than the ones I bought before. Then, if my hypothesis proves right (which it might not. They might be legit,) I'm going to find some that really are good and buy those instead. I'll run a green business in spite of America's best efforts.
Hey, that's a pretty good line. I bet I could build a poem around that line.
Oh, I forget the detail that my insomnia has come back. The kind where I wake up too early and then can't get back to sleep. So I came home with the envelopes and fell into a fitful heat sleep on my bed. It's a humid heat.
When I got up I noticed that I hadn't seen or heard my nieces since this morning. I found that they, and Pat and Andi, were gone. They didn't come back around dinner. My date to the cemetary cancelled on me, so I decided to make myself dinner and take myself to a movie.
But first I drove out to Butte College (yeah, I know. I think that too. I think of dirty jokes every time I see the sign for that school) in hopes of getting a class schedual for fall. I think I mentioned before that I'm going to take a class in the fall. It's about a twenty minute drive, a "Haley's Comet" and a "Lizards" if you're listening to a Phish concert (By gad if this post is any indication I'm a half step from sitting in a tree to confound loggers), through farm lands all yellow from the summer heat. Once on the 99 I remembered what weekend this is, but when I got on the road to Butte College I was completely alone. And I parked in a completely deserted parking lot realizing that there might be a problem with my plan. I walked around the campus and realized I was the only human on that large plot of land. I was secure enough in this to walk around and play "Paul After The Apocalypse" for a while, but not quite secure enough to get naked.
I came home and found my first quarter since starting Prometheus Rising. It was in my yard, which really freaked me out.
I went to see Super Size Me. You should all do what I did and go see Super Size Me. I expected it to be funny and to preach to the choir to me about multi-national corporations. Which it did. But it's one of the best documentaries I've ever seen. I'm going to gush over it, but I highly recommend it. In fact, I think it might be more valuable than that other big documentary out in theaters right now by virtue that the audience for Super Size Me, with the funny premise of a man eating McDonald's food three times a day for a month, will draw in people who might not already agree with it. It might educate. I know this because a family sat in front of me with a boy who was probably around 10 and a girl who was probably 6 or 7. At the intermission (being the bizzaro art theater in town they have a short intermission even in movies that are a little over an hour) the mom turned to the boy and said, "Now do you understand why a little better?"
She didn't have to explain why what to me. She didn't let those kids eat fast food and she was indoctrinating them with propaganda. Go Mom!
So, go see this film and drag some normals along with you who eat crap.
And don't look away at the gross part, you wuss!

There's one other thing I've got to comment on. I got a call while my veggie pot pie was cooking from my Mom. She just called to tell me that Brando died. He was one of those people like Poe or John Calvin. One of those people that most people go about their day not realizing how different their world would be if that person hadn't existed. Being a culture that leans heavily on their entertainment (which I capitalize on by the way) I feel comfortable saying that. In fact when I went to the theater there was a vintage poster for Bedtime Story, so Brando was making goo goo eyes at the back of my head throughout the movie.
I've said some remarks before about how he stopped caring about the art at the end. Maybe he did. But I don't think that discounts anything he did in his earlier career.
Truman Capote's piece on Brando is a gorgeous piece of writing.
I cried at Truman Capote's grave.
I don't tell girls I like that usually.
I guess that's all I have to say because I've stopped talking about Brando now.

Except that I hope he went like Vito.

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