Postcards from Exile
Mar. 14th, 2010 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalon~ So I just found out that one of my ex-girlfriend's recently tried 'friending' my dad on Facebook because she thought he was me. While being awkward for all kinds of reasons I'm having trouble expressing at the moment, it does seem at least a rather fitting introduction of Freud to the 21st century.
~ Forgive me if these notes ramble or come off with even more attrocious grammar errors than one of my usual posts. I worked a nine hour shift up at the club last night and with spring forward (at Spring4th no less) I didn't roll back in until nine-ish. Got myself a bronze medal in the "Insomniac Olympics" - corraling space hippies and running ID checks at the door. Damn near burnt through a full pack of smokes doing it and I still have this 'whump-whump-whump' bass roll tr5apped in my skull echoing posthumously off the DJ's turntables. A shame though... Atomic Babies played but being up at the door I missed their set. Remember picking up 'Breuklen Heightz' after catching them on Amp back in the day. Anyway didn't pass out until 10:30 and got up at two because my bio-alarm clock is still set on 'bum' rather than 'doorman'.
~ Thoroughly enjoying Jonathan Strange and Mister Norell - the first three hundred and so pages just evaporating off the story. Who would've guess that Faeries and Napoleonics would go so well together? Of late I've been digging solo 2 am vigils with the book, chilling in the living room with the NPR classics cranked on the surround sound, feet up, enjoying a leisurely smoke while sipping earl grey. Doing so allows me to momentarily pretend to be some blue-blooded gentleman wastrel who has the free time and money to do little else.
~ Because my two roomies - Pepe and Polo (or is that Polo and Pepe... I can never remember?) - are outdoor cats and can come and go as they please before dark I have to leave the little window open for them in the day. This means, with the miserable cold we've had to go with the rain, that I have to write bundled up in watch cap and bomber. This is good though because all artists should have a period where they do their work under conditions best described as 'Dostoyevskian'. Unfortunately when I finally do the close the window at night and can strip down bare to wrestle the word naked (just the way the 'word' likes it) I have a very annoyed Pepe standing in front of the monitor 'yelling' at me to open the god damn window up. He usually stops somewhere arooooound... never or until I bribe him sufficently with 'Temptation' treats.
Though I love cats (usually by way of the women who worship them as some kind of feral household saints) it's shit like this that makes me a 'dog' person. That and I look ever so fetching in a spiked collar.
~ So dig it - I'm housesitting down the block from two, count 'em, two bookstores and I don't mean Borders or Barnes. These are old fashioned brick and mortar numbers. The kind that have little shelves wheeled out front where you can browse through bargain hardcover books on old wars or flip through yellowed paperbacks indiscimanetly. Best of all when someone opens the door you get that 'used bookstore' musk wafting out. I really wish they could bottle the scent into some kind of cologne or perfume... Ralph Lauren's BOOKSTORE for MEN! There's also a record store, a cafe, an ice-cream shop and an international food fair of resteraunts. It's as if I found some magical neighborhood that somehow never left the 90's.
"Greetings people of Decatur, I'm from the nearby future (and two zip codes over)... do not be alarmed by my Kindel Book and MP3 downloads and news of a great economic disaster, I am merely a visitor in this era and wish to windowshop."
~ Odd magick last night. This was up at the club. For some reason I thought if I thought real hard enough that I would find money on the floor while working. And so I did... but not without a cost. This kid dropped a roll of twenties out of his pocket and neither he nor his girlfriend noticed. I did. For a second my brain flashed solely on the opportunity. Here it was... cash, just like I asked. But by the time I picked it up I found myself calling out to the kid and waving the roll to signal my intent. He didn't hear me but his girl did. She looked at me, then the money and then her man and then back at me again in bemused shock. The kid thanked me and I tried to blanket my disappointment with a good natured smile. I don't know what it was - I was screaming in my head to keep it the whole time but some part of me wouldn't let me do it.
I've said it a hundred times before - "I need to be a big bastard or a nicer guy". Still, without temptation there would be precious little measure to judge character by.
~ Alright I'm off to catch The Pacific on HBO.
~ Forgive me if these notes ramble or come off with even more attrocious grammar errors than one of my usual posts. I worked a nine hour shift up at the club last night and with spring forward (at Spring4th no less) I didn't roll back in until nine-ish. Got myself a bronze medal in the "Insomniac Olympics" - corraling space hippies and running ID checks at the door. Damn near burnt through a full pack of smokes doing it and I still have this 'whump-whump-whump' bass roll tr5apped in my skull echoing posthumously off the DJ's turntables. A shame though... Atomic Babies played but being up at the door I missed their set. Remember picking up 'Breuklen Heightz' after catching them on Amp back in the day. Anyway didn't pass out until 10:30 and got up at two because my bio-alarm clock is still set on 'bum' rather than 'doorman'.
~ Thoroughly enjoying Jonathan Strange and Mister Norell - the first three hundred and so pages just evaporating off the story. Who would've guess that Faeries and Napoleonics would go so well together? Of late I've been digging solo 2 am vigils with the book, chilling in the living room with the NPR classics cranked on the surround sound, feet up, enjoying a leisurely smoke while sipping earl grey. Doing so allows me to momentarily pretend to be some blue-blooded gentleman wastrel who has the free time and money to do little else.
~ Because my two roomies - Pepe and Polo (or is that Polo and Pepe... I can never remember?) - are outdoor cats and can come and go as they please before dark I have to leave the little window open for them in the day. This means, with the miserable cold we've had to go with the rain, that I have to write bundled up in watch cap and bomber. This is good though because all artists should have a period where they do their work under conditions best described as 'Dostoyevskian'. Unfortunately when I finally do the close the window at night and can strip down bare to wrestle the word naked (just the way the 'word' likes it) I have a very annoyed Pepe standing in front of the monitor 'yelling' at me to open the god damn window up. He usually stops somewhere arooooound... never or until I bribe him sufficently with 'Temptation' treats.
Though I love cats (usually by way of the women who worship them as some kind of feral household saints) it's shit like this that makes me a 'dog' person. That and I look ever so fetching in a spiked collar.
~ So dig it - I'm housesitting down the block from two, count 'em, two bookstores and I don't mean Borders or Barnes. These are old fashioned brick and mortar numbers. The kind that have little shelves wheeled out front where you can browse through bargain hardcover books on old wars or flip through yellowed paperbacks indiscimanetly. Best of all when someone opens the door you get that 'used bookstore' musk wafting out. I really wish they could bottle the scent into some kind of cologne or perfume... Ralph Lauren's BOOKSTORE for MEN! There's also a record store, a cafe, an ice-cream shop and an international food fair of resteraunts. It's as if I found some magical neighborhood that somehow never left the 90's.
"Greetings people of Decatur, I'm from the nearby future (and two zip codes over)... do not be alarmed by my Kindel Book and MP3 downloads and news of a great economic disaster, I am merely a visitor in this era and wish to windowshop."
~ Odd magick last night. This was up at the club. For some reason I thought if I thought real hard enough that I would find money on the floor while working. And so I did... but not without a cost. This kid dropped a roll of twenties out of his pocket and neither he nor his girlfriend noticed. I did. For a second my brain flashed solely on the opportunity. Here it was... cash, just like I asked. But by the time I picked it up I found myself calling out to the kid and waving the roll to signal my intent. He didn't hear me but his girl did. She looked at me, then the money and then her man and then back at me again in bemused shock. The kid thanked me and I tried to blanket my disappointment with a good natured smile. I don't know what it was - I was screaming in my head to keep it the whole time but some part of me wouldn't let me do it.
I've said it a hundred times before - "I need to be a big bastard or a nicer guy". Still, without temptation there would be precious little measure to judge character by.
~ Alright I'm off to catch The Pacific on HBO.