finished.

This morning I’ve done nothing but drink coffee and listen to music and read, read, read. The book I’m finishing in the picture is You Don’t Love Me Yet: A Novel by Jonathan Lethem – a quick, mostly enjoyable read. It’s a satire of yet another NextBigThing band-full of hipsters, and is itself full of sex and wit.

Emily took one of the only pictures of me I’ve ever liked. Yay for Emily. Yay for you, too, I guess.

It must be springtime, I hear the ice cream truck outside. Ice cream truck in the afternoon = ice as in ice cream. Ice cream truck after 9pm = ice as in Not Ice Cream.

flowers

The best thing for being sad, I think, is to go for a long bike ride in the mid-day sun. I wore my discount water shoes so the wind blew threw my hair AND my toes for extra refreshment. Wandered along the warehouse district, weaved through the alleys and sidewalks of downtown until I decided to stop at the downtown library and pick up some books. Ignored the security guard when he called to me – “sir…ma’am…sir…ma’am…ma’am!” – I figured it he wanted to look through my bookbag badly enough, he would chase me down. (The Birmingham Public Library, by the way, does not allow anyone to enter if they have clothing in their bag…a thinly veiled excuse to keep homeless folks from using public services.) Apparently I didn’t look homeless enough to chase.

Other things that help being sad:

• Morrissey
• making plans with friends

In case you were wondering what caused the Virginia Tech attack, the cynical-c is keeping track: video games, Simon Cowell, Athiest’s – it’s all there.

The local peacenik reaction to the VT attack is one of knee-jerk opportunity – they say now is the time to stand on a street corner with signs raised for stronger gun control. I’m not sure exactly what they mean by “stronger gun control” – this tragedy was caused by a suicidal maniac with delusions of grandeur (which the media has been more than happy to fulfill). The shooter bought his weapons by entirely legal means…although the Brady Campaign believes that based on the existing federal law, Cho Seung-Hui should not have passed his Brady background checks [because] he presented ‘an imminent danger to himself as a result of mental illness’. If handguns were made illegal, shotguns and rifles are still capable of killing people. Here’s the thing: guns kill people. All guns are capable of killing people. If currently existing laws cannot be enforced, how will new legislation help?

If you really want gun control, repeal the second amendment. Make all guns illegal. (It wouldn’t be the first time there was talk about amending the Constitution – see the Flag Desecration Amendment.) Until you’re ready to make that leap, don’t talk to me about gun control. More laws won’t work. Laws don’t work if people are idiots.

dusty

Dusty, a good friend of Trey and Amanda and Paula and best friend of Eric, passed away in his sleep early Sunday morning. He was a genuinely nice guy, a great guy, a guy who I never heard say a bad thing about anybody, and he will be truly missed by many, myself included.

For kurt vonnegut: The Last Rites of the Bokononism [ 99 ]
(Each line is said once by the person giving the rites and then repeated by the dying person.)

God made mud.
God got lonesome.
So God said to some of the mud, “Sit up!”
“See all I’ve made,” said God, “the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars.”
And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around.
Lucky me, lucky mud.
I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done.
Nice going, God.
Nobody but you could have done it, God! I certainly couldn’t have.
I feel very unimportant compared to You.
The only way I can feel the least bit important is to think of all the mud that didn’t even get to sit up and look around.
I got so much, and most mud got so little.
Thank you for the honor!
Now mud lies down again and goes to sleep.
What memories for mud to have!
What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met!
I loved everything I saw!
Good night.
I will go to heaven now.
I can hardly wait…
To find out for certain what my wampeter was…
And who was in my karass…
And all the good things our karass did for you.
Amen.

IMG_0055.JPG

I lost my keys twice this week. First, on Thursday night while leaving work I realized I didn’t have my keys in my bag. Amanda said I could borrow the car to go pick up Emily’s key, so I hung out in the park reading The Sun while waiting. Read The War Within Islam: Reza Aslan On How The U.S. Fails To Understand The Muslim World. Great article. Did you know that Iran has a 79% literacy rate? That’s better than the city of Birmingham (68%).

While reading, a guy walked by me and then suddenly stopped. “Excuse me”, he asked. Even though he was dressed like he just came from the gym, the tone of his voice was such that I expected him to ask me for money. “Would you like to check out a church service my wife and I go to?”. I said “Nah, man, sorry” before the words he said even registered.

I lost my keys again on Saturday, playing with the dogs at the park. Whitney and I were sitting with the hippies in the circle surrounding a fire in a makeshift pit, the only two in the whole park who weren’t smoking weed. We got up to leave just as the guitars starting coming out of car trunks, and I realized I didn’t have my keys. Whitney and I walked up and down the park green, from the circle to the creek. Found them closer to the hippies then the tree Emily and I planted.

Been listening to blues all weekend. John Lee Hooker, Clarence Gatemouth Brown, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Lonnie Johnson, Bukka White. That shit fills my soul.

Listened to Handel’s Messiah on vinyl today (the Philadelphia Orchestra w/ the Mormon Tabernacle Choir version). Me and the cats all content on the sofa, and entire pot of French Press full of coffee in my belly. Thought back to my high school days, playing the piano accompaniment for my choir director’s recital. Back then, I wouldn’t even let myself dream of being this content.

going home…

Thirteen hours later and I’m about to head home from work. Should I grab some coffee and plan to stay up all night so I can make progress on my self-taught (but exceptionally pertinent to work) web-app project, or go for a run and then read until a reasonable bedtime so I can be so fresh and so clean for tomorrow and maybe even make some progress on an entirely different project I’ve been too busy to even think about before the meeting I have concerning said project?

The (possibly) new landlord took us through the house today. He’s got a couple projects ahead of him, so he doesn’t want to give us a definite move-in date. I don’t want to give my 30-days notice until I have a definite move-in date. The place is awesome – hardwood floors, great woodwork, a little sun window, lots of windows and a great big huge porch that, in itself, is almost bigger than the place I’m living in now. But I’m ready to *move*, so even though we’ll probably move in there, if anyone has leads on a 2 bedroom in Highland or Glen Iris with W/D connections that will allow 2 cats, let me know.

Highlight of the weekend: seeing Robyn. She showed up Friday and we got to talk for a few hours before she had to leave. I miss her a bunch; we talk like she still lives right above me, instead of the other coast.

Lots of other stuff to talk about, if I could take the time to write it down, but most of it is petty and not worth the time it would take to recall. My dreams have been crazy vivid lately.

I vote for choice #2.