Now I lay me down to sleep, to this disco nap I keep, and awake in time for after-hours. Shower, shave and dress, boots check, jeans check, shirt check, belt with the giant gold crucifix buckle check, check one, check two and make like the runway with a slam of my fists, roger, you are clear. I will stand on the edge of the blue dance floor as the disco ball spins, close my eyes and sway to the warm clicks and scratches of long play records. We will dance the way that boys dance together, a little awkward and shy at first-but with a sturdy ease, a rhythm between us.
8:28 PM :
Thursday, February 28, 2002
Anti-Freeze is to blue curacao as sugar is to polydextrose. Black ice everywhere, the interbelt littered with yesterday's CARcass'. Sure, I jumped the gun by taking the mountain bike out of storage, but it really was spring-like a few days ago. I had hopes of riding, but the snow machine is geared us up for another super blast of the white shit. Perhaps I will just kick some tires this weekend, spy on concept cars at the local Auto-Show, sit in the Mini Cooper S, sweet Jesus, I am in love with a car. (Insert transition phrase here___) I cover the Times, note to self, get The John Fante Reader, blah blah blah. Tonight the gym was nearly empty, I literally squatted my ass off, upped my poundage by another 15%, continued with the quirk of stacking the plates up inward, that is to say that the marked end of the cast iron weights have to be facing in on the bar, it's a luck thing, a form thing, a quirk. Energy level was great, thanks to this little energy bar that tastes like burnt egg plant with a fake wax like coating of chocolate. I know, hold me back, Mmm goodness, Nothing rich, thick or gooey about this soggy piece of cardboard, It does however, contain a substantial amount of protein without all the sugar, I refuse to bonk, it's unnatural to hit the wall and stagger around all foggy, it just ain't right for a young man. I'm now watching Combat Missions hoping they will take their shirts off again.
9:21 PM :
I used to really dislike her but now my disco needs her, Kylie Minogue's at number one, she's fun, she's feminine, she's everything the Taliban hate most. All the more reason to love her.
I love designer Matthew Riley's work, he is punk without being overly sanitized, currently at Drome in Australia.
12:25 PM :
Wednesday, February 27, 2002
Early morning snowstorm and biting cold weather, the world is my very own exploding plastic inevitable, I strong armed my way around the weight room, gym-time, my energy level sucked, it's my own damn fault that I bonked a third of the way through a sweat soaked set of 21s/ bicep curls. Drank some gator-gunk and touched (for good luck and inspiration) the 'signed' weight belt of Mr. Incredible Hulk himself Lou Ferrigno surrounded by various photos of bodybuilders past and present. I'm going to post some beef cake progress shots soon and want to be suitably packaged in a bathing suit only Captain America would wear. I recently purchased some frisky items from here, hey, I'm patriotic, what can I say? Luckily I get to work from home today, my required crap has slowed down, and I actually have some time to chillout, catch up on some reading. I will finish the last of the testosterone laden Chuck Palahniuk books (Fight Club) and I wholly understand the cult status, although I am unsure of what I think of his work as a whole, but I can tell you the allure is more than what is often passed off as being senseless machismo....More later. There are times I don't want to read at all, and paging through my old copies of LIFE magazine is more than satisfactory. Brilliant cover and layout work by glorious photographers like Bourke-White, black and white that is more than full spectrum. Food food food I need protein bad before my head hits this keyboard and I bonk out again. Anyone for pork rinds? Just joshin ya!
1:00 PM :
Tuesday, February 26, 2002
The moment I wake up
Before I put on my make up
I say a little prayer for you
While combling my hair now
And wondering what dress to wear now
I say a little prayer for you...
and morning comes as I try to tame my chubber, a shower a shave, I comb my hair, thinking of letting it grow longer so I look like D'Artagnan again. Quick edit and index of various food items, power bars, water and bag for gym (I packed last night) books and papers and pens and pencils, palm pilot and coffee mug did I mention I buy special socks to wear, my shoes look nice I think I'll keep my glasses on today, Wrigley's gum was the first product to have a barcode and first to nail the term 'refreshing', the King of Hearts is the only king without a mustache, American car horns only beep in the key of F and oak trees take 50 years to produce one acorn. Notes on the Florentine Victory of the Milanese and Mr. Brunelleschi and countless other Piero Dellas and so on and so on next to book marks for porn. Some speak of Morrissey, I speak of lil' Joe and I'm not ready to look at Hell today.
7:55 AM :
Monday, February 25, 2002
You may want to submit a word to pseudodictionary, the place where words you've invented can become part of an actual online dictionary; slang, webspeak, colloquialisms...you name it, if you know a word that should be in the dictionary but isn't, submit it and they'll post it on the site (with credit given to you of course) I submitted Rockasaurus, marked by long hair, leather like skin, rockasaurus' are long past their prime but still enjoy being in a rock band. Secondly, Repo Cabin, a barely inhabitable structure that is so ramshackled that it is best to withold the mortgage or rent payment in hopes of it being repossessed. We were so poor, we grew up in a Repo Cabin outside of Detroit.
12:05 PM :
Sunday, February 24, 2002
I left my little world of citrus magic and text books behind to venture across town for a matinee of 'Amelie' or 'Fabuleux Destin d'Am�lie Poulain'. This film is a giant live action CIBACHROME print fully saturated and shot with a dazzling virtuosity. Breathtakingly beautiful cinematic eyecandy for retina and brain alike. Jean Pierre Jeunet and writer Guillaume Laurent's quirkly little creation is awash in themes of love, voyeurism, individuality, maturity and what it takes to find and make meaning in your life. Inspiring film that lives in the world between Jacques Tati (Mon Oncle) and an American in Paris. VW Beetle wound through the city streets for Chrysanthemum tea, while WJLB played in the mix, an old school Boogie Down Production, forming the Soul Train line now, and as always in parting, we wish you love, peace and soooooooooooul!
9:30 PM :
Suck it FUCKER! Call it the winter blahs call it a 'funk' cause' last week, I had the fever for the flavaa of that funk. Last week 'sucked hard, it bit the big one, it blew, I was a crab ass, I consumed way too much sugar, I had a mean case of writers/artist block, I walked around in a daze, I was a bastard to be around, nuffin' was right, nuffin' went my way, I contemplated quitting my blog and came to my senses because wait a minute, I think I have something to say, I have something to add, I got two cents and want to put it in for what it's worth, ground control to major Thom...and then it hit me: 'don't take life so fucking personally.' Yeah, that's it. I'm still way behind on my thesis/research/paper and ain't this turning into a book, ought to be writing, blog as diversion, blog as good diversion, this is supposed to be great fun, work hard play hard, matinee in the middle of the afternoon, return e-mails, damn it! That said, I'll match my Vera Charles to your Auntie Mame anyday. Your soundtrack this week will be brought to you by; Eric B. and Rakim versus. the new Chemical Brothers.
9:50 AM :
