Really Now

I’ve taken the week off of work…actually, The Man grants a week during either Thanksgiving or Christmas and told me that this week is the one that I will be taking off. But that’s kewl because truly, I’m very happy about it, about this week off. I’ve covered all of my neuroses – I’ve cleaned the apartment to sparkling degrees: I’ve dusted, swept, scrubbed, bleached, vacuumed every organge-striped Holly hair off of every carpet, cushion and blanket. I’ve re-arranged lots of furniture within various scenarios. I’ve taken many scalding hot showers and baths and ensured – though not the true purpose of the endeavor – squeaky squeaky cleanliness. And as crazy as that sounds, the truth is, it’s all just really relaxing. Hot like a hot tub – so hot that I have to [get to] lay down immediately afterward, still wearing the towel, for fear of passing out right there on the tile. I’m a big passer-outer, unfortunately. I lose consciousness, strangely, in many different circumstances I’ve come to learn. Anyway, point here is that it’s been a good weekend and a good beginning of the week. I’ve had wild nights (okay, only one and it was at a gay bar on a weeknight for chrissake, but still ), museum experiences, good conversations and too much thinking. But zero, absolutely zero working. This was going somewhere when I titled it.

“Really, the blog is just a record of what I think about the world and how I spend my free time,” Widmar said. “In other words, exactly the sort of information that no 30-year-old wants his mom to have access to. I am so in hell right now.”

supposedly, how not to get fired b/c of your blog. i might could use a dose of that.

i’m working for the soon-to-be new mayor of houston this week, and totally by default. i mean, i’m not volunteering for his campaign, i’m not attending any of his fundraisers, but i am leaning on the media, by default of course, on his behalf because that is what i am paid to do. two stories in today’s chronicle are the result of my conversations with political editors last night and i’m not even voting in the runoff election. this is crazyness. this is under the radar. this is my current, time-limited career. hmm.
i’m writing this of course to procrastinate calling his press secretary again to make sure “my client” has a substantial presence in the press conference today. yep, don’t want to make that call and certainly don’t want to do billing when i get back from the “luncheon” today. will instead look out the window at the pidgeons on the stoop and wonder if any of them have flown to the ocean and back sometime in their little bird lifetime.

End-of-Day Surprises From Across The Ocean
This is why it is so worth it to never lose touch. Damn good surprise. Damn good.

Hola Bonita!
I just spent the weekend in Madrid – isn´t that crazy? I flew there on Thursday and got back yesterday morning…

Hope you are doing great – a big hug from Germany,

Ahhh, sweet. I’ve got some pictures to look at if I ever finish this damn article and get to go home.

done with it.
this is not the place and was never the time.

Gigantic, A Big Big Love

Something just is not right. I’m okay, but I feel it around me, and it’s not the flooding waters of Buffalo Bayou I’ll be steering my car through on the way home. It’s a feeling of discordance and it’s heavy. What is it. what is it? Something’s there for sure. Maybe Kim Deal can illuminate it for me. Kim Deal makes me want to scrap the sad PR suit, leave the hotel in River Oaks and front a punk band. But being alive makes me want to do those things too. And I never wanted the PR suite or the hotel off Shepard for that matter.
Why am I here?

IOR, how do I know where my spiritual center is? Can you tell me? Can you guide an old stolid tree?

It’s funny, I want freedom and I want rules. Not for my life but for life. I like standards but I love shattering them. And it’s not about these things at all – these are just manifestation, images used for illustration. It’s The Pull, the crashing waves and the undercurrent, Milton’s Theory of Opposites, sneezing – the breathing and the dying.

I don’t want to be judgmental but it’s difficult. I am so incredibly annoyed. Dripping in Annoyance. Annoyance for desperate attempts but primarily for flagrant unoriginality. Almost everytime I click, I regret it. Because everytime I visit certain persons, I see rip-offs. Everywhere, right and left. Tragic scams and fking theft. Sad sad sad sad sad go play in traffic sad. You’re killin’ me.

What is The Light,
that you have?
Shining
All
Around
you,
Is it
chemically derived?

Cause
if It’s
natural,
something glowing from inside,
shining all around you
it’s potential has arrived

I can’t separate the words from the sound. Just like I can’t separate the memory from promises for the future.

Fkkn Spam

(received today from a journalist looking for interviews, feel free to contact directly):

**2. TODAY/INTERNET: DECONSTRUCTING SPAM – NEW YORK DAILY NEWS (US)
All my spam is about sex, pain, vacations, cellulite and cable box descramblers. I’m pondering what this tells us about who we are as a nation. If you’re into pondering with me, give a call.
Need leads by 06:00 PM US/Eastern NOV 17
Lenore Skenazy Lskenazy@edit.nydailynews.com
Phone: 212-210-1544
URL: http://www.nydailynews.com

…as we receive spam in our comments fields…

The Whole Mad Swirl

It’s interesting; it’s cyclic. And it’s trite. Last night was the first time in a long time that I had something original to write here. Something stemming from me, out of me, that wasn’t the result of my reaction to something else. No trigger, but generation. in it’s purity. And now it’s gone, though the act of posting reminds me of the loftier times, even though I’m not currently in the spirit of one, and that can’t be a bad thing.

I have a manner of speaking where I explain things away, and at a quick pace, before I’ve asked you what it was that I approached you for originally. I have a manner of thinking where I can’t collect all of my thoughts, I am instead grabbing their tails as they swirl around and throughout me. I have behaviors that give me away. You can see my mind working, my speech pausing, my eyes squinting, my will trying to pin down my point as I’m speaking, as though the very act of realization ignites the idea like a fury and gives it amazing torque to rocket away if not caught. Even though I know I’m being observed, I can’t change the behavior. I couldn’t be a con-man. I wear it all too well.

I can’t get online anymore at home. And the speed at which thoughts come to me, are processed, tasted and swallowed is so fast that it overwhelms my ability to write words. Subsequently I no longer have legible handwriting. I know many deal with the access problem by paying for time online or going to libraries and the like, but for me, if I can’t get it out when it’s there, it’s a goner. Buried. I’ve got to make a purchase. And it’s terrible timing; it’s the holidays. I can’t spend money on myself, but I soooo want to. I’m not going to write about this anymore –

I just wanted to tell you that changes are so difficult, I know. But you’re making them and it’s for the better. Because the things that made you want to leave in the first place won’t go away even if you decide to stay. You’re being pushed forward, so go with your inertia because it has a purpose. The grass is always looking greener, but the bridge to get there is always looking rickety-er. You just make that choice and jump. And I’m watching you do it and I’m proud of you, and I’m taking lessons as you school me.

mysterious adoration, hmm.

blah blah blah blah blahgg

gosh, i hope you haven’t been reading this. what a terrible week of posts. of slapping words down without thought or craft, like mud on pavement when you were a kid. i just finished a post and lost it when i went to publish, but it was really no loss at all. just words that clearly didn’t want to be saved.

moody writing isn’t a good move. someone make me stop. no doubt i’ll produce neg-chi with my throbbing temple and resultant wincing left eye. god, what is this? why does my back hurt so badly? it must be psychosomatic. it must be chair-behind-desk syndrome.

i hope i delete the whole month of november. this has become ridiculous.

i’m heading north after work, after a shower and packing and goodbyes to an orange cat, to end up at the cavern with SOE and 566. because the cavern has the music, 566 has the birthday and SOE has the lover who i simply must meet. parties must be thrown and memories must be made. it must be done; i’s just the way it is.

SOE really has found the best sites. ze is like a library of distraction!