...every soldier passing...

Notes from a Sunday night:

i) Clogged shower drains are not fun. Don't ever think they are. Don't think "hey, this can be an adventure". Because it won't. It is an adventure you really would not rather have. After an hour with an unwound clothes hanger, plunger, boiling water, vinegar and baking soda I have a somewhat functioning shower. We shall experiment tomorrow and see how it goes, but I do have a feeling that this isn't your usual hair cloggage and a plumber's service might be in order.

ii) Something you can attribute to me when I'm long past dead: "Friendship is like counting backwards from 100". You figure that one out.

iii) The thing with following the moment, following sensations is that it is a fantastical occurrence. It has no basis in reality. Believe me, I understand when time stops and the only thing that exists is you and the person in the bed beside you. It's a very heady feeling -- but, outside of those four walls and that timeframe, there is a whole world out there and if some small part of your mind doesn't consider them before, then the rest of your mind will have to deal with them after.

It's well and good to know all this I suppose, but the difficulty is living it. It's not even a question of self-discipline. If I really really wanted, if any of us really really wanted to, we could live healthy ethical lives - the problem is, we don't want to. We want to have those moments where something just clicks, and you have to see where it goes because from the moment you saw them, spoke to them, smiled at them this sense of inevitability hit you in the gut and you know you have to live it because if you don't you feel like you'll explode not from curiosity so much as just the certainty that something phenomenal maybe/possibly/might just happen and you can't miss it, no matter what happens in the morning, in the real world that you conveniently forgot.

The point to this is... this whole "holier than thou" thing I've done in the past is quite obviously crap. I'm not saying there aren't reasons for what I do, but that they aren't the readily apparent ones. Or ones that I can readily admit to without a serious vulnerability going on. Which means, I have no idea what I'm talking about because this wasn't even about me when I started, but somehow here we are. What happened to me being less self-important this year? Right.

iv) No more movie dates if they are going to be cut. You're cut. Cut cut cut.

v) Other people who are cut:

- full italians (exceptions made for the halfs, like javod)
- pseudo-pianists
- parking lot attendents
- Milan Kundera (not for a bad reason -- really only for being so good he is distracting me from other endeavors)

vi) I want black flower-ed flats from Aldo that are half ballet, half Mary Jane. And I want them now. By which I mean, they can wait until tomorrow. But no longer.