Last night Angela and I watched Drive — because the internet demanded it! — and I was tickled that this song played every time the driver man looked at the pretty lady because it used to be my ringtone. Because I thought it’d be funny if my ringtone was a slow fade-in to a quiet ambient drone.
I wouldn’t even realize my phone was ringing. I’d just suddenly feel relaxed and then miss the call. It was perfect.
In high school I asked a girl who was really tall and sun-dappled to make me a copy of U2’s new album. I didn’t like U2 but I liked this girl so I said um maybe you could make me a copy and then fill up the rest of the tape with whatever you want? I.e., songs carefully selected to reveal your true sexy feelings for me?
That’s how I made moves back then and it worked about as well as you’d imagine. (I would later make her an elaborate Valentine’s Day card, embedded with secret messages, in MacPaint.)
Anyway on Side B she put the entirety of Especially For You which became one of my all-time faves. The Joshua Tree did not. The sun-dappled girl went on to be sad and alone forever, I bet.
String cheese for dinner. That’s a dinner. And there’s a trivia question on each package!
What fruit has more vitamin C than an orange? Let’s see. I don’t know. A banana. I’m not going to think about it. Just tell me the answer.
A tomato? Oh fuck you. I don’t care if a tomato is really a fruit, nobody thinks of it as a fruit so that was a trick question.
[I eat the string cheese in silence, then:]
Why is it a fruit? What defines a fruit? Grows on a tree. No, grapes grow on a vine. Tomatoes grow on a vine. Um. Pumpkins grow on a vine. Squash. Fruit has seeds. Tomatoes have seeds. Cucumbers have seeds. Uh.
Sunday night. Time to crack open a Zima, undo the kimono, and put on a little Pure Moods Vol. 1.
I jest, of course. I mean a lot of Pure Moods Vol. 1.
"Return to Innocence" - Enigma
“Orinoco Flow” - Enya
“Sweet Lullaby” - Deep Forest
“Oxygène Part IV” - Jean Michel Jarre
“The X-Files Theme (DADO Paranormal Activity Mix)” - DJ Dado
“Tubular Bells Part 1” - Mike Oldfield
“Sadeness, Pt. 1” - Enigma
“Adiemus” - Adiemus
“Crockett’s Theme” - Jan Hammer
“Theme from The Mission” - Ennio Morricone
“Main Title Theme from The Last Emperor” - David Byrne
“Yeha-Noha (Wishes of Happiness & Prosperity)” - Sacred Spirit
“The Theme from Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me” - Angelo Badalamenti
“Makambo” - Geoffrey Oryema
“My Wife with Champagne Shoulders” - Mark Isham
“The Promise” - Michael Nyman
I just stumbled on a diary I kept in the late 90s. Here are some excerpts:
I got a Nintendo last week which was yet another in a hugely long line of bad ideas.
Applebee’s: I’ve never been to one of these — and yet I have. Basically Chili’s.
This party was a wholly miserable experience because of all the Web people.
Bart wasn’t there, sadly, but I saw his redecoration of my room, complete with a spinning disco ball, rave lights, portrait of Clint Eastwood, and a whip on the wall that he evidently uses as a jump rope first thing in the morning.
I do think she’s attractive, except for her freaky-ass teeth which kind of make my skin crawl.
I look terrible but this sweater helps things out.
At some WebTV party I got lit and put my arms around big, Amazonian Noelle and kissed her on the cheek and then went over and found her boyfriend Ryan and admitted it.
I watched Fargo today and for some reason it made me burst into tears.
I bought a scented tree thing for my car to cover up the vomit smell and now it smells like horrid perfume, not “Outdoor Breeze” at all!
I just got back from seeing The Phantom Menace, and goodness did it upset me.
Last night I went against my better judgment and wrote a Harry Potter tweet. It relied too much on knowing Harry Potter stuff to get the “joke” but whatever, the Venn diagram of Harry Potter people and Twitter people is basically a big fat zero. But before I got to the final draft I went over here:
I’m sorry I yelled out someone else’s name while we were boning but I’m not sorry that the name was Ron Weasley.
And prior to that it just got creepy:
Yeah well this twenty dollar bill says your name IS Hermione for the next half hour.
In college I took a couple creative writing classes and one of them was taught by this guy Hargurchet Bhabra. On the first day he strutted in wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses and just stood there for a while, staring at us, then took some plates out of his briefcase and smashed them on the floor. He said: “Write about what just happened.”
Another day one of my classmates started complaining about a grade she got and he yelled at her and kicked her out. He said: “Write about what just happened.” The whole thing was staged.
One of our assignments was to pick a classmate and write a story where they were the love interest and then give it to them to read. Which was not awkward at all.
He said to me: “Your story is like a beautiful sports car with no engine under the hood.”
Anyway I just looked him up on Wikipedia and here are some highlights:
Born in Mumbai, grew up in London, won the first Fulbright for “spy and detective fiction,” taught at UCLA for three years (where I took his class) while trying to start a screenwriting career that didn’t happen. He won a “handsome sum” on Jeopardy. He became obsessed with climbing bridges and got arrested trying to climb the Golden Gate Bridge.
He moved to Toronto and worked on a few TV shows and struggled to finish a novel. He killed himself by jumping off the Prince Edward Viaduct which helped bring about the construction of the Luminous Veil, a suicide barrier fence over the viaduct. It has had no appreciable effect on the total number of suicides in Toronto.
I sketched a man on the bus this morning. He caught my attention because he looked like he’d seen terrible things in his life, things he’d locked up inside himself but which escaped, from time to time, through his eyes, and because he had a sizable erection. I sketched the erection first because I’m good at those, and then the haunted eyes, and then the bikini top. My pencil moved effortlessly, my hand guided by God. At my stop, I handed the man my drawing and said, “You’re welcome, old soul,” and then headed out into the world, breathed in the sweet summer air, and gave a homeless woman a coupon for two free hugs, which she declined.
Andrew is OG internet. He made Pitas and DiaryLand and other things that paved the way for Tumblr. He’s Canadian lol. Anyway I don’t remember where I got this recording of him singing but I bust it out whenever I’m feeling despair-y, so like 9:30 every morning.
So I quit my copywriting job about a month ago and am currently freelancing doing the exact same work except at home, ostensibly while I “figure things out” and “make a bold new career move.”
Just now I found myself googling “what IS cocktail sauce.” Then comparing the ingredients of some cocktail sauce and ketchup in my refrigerator. Then thinking how weird it was that there’s a condiment that is used for only one or two types of food, and why did I even have some? For the three times a year I eat shrimp?
I haven’t left my apartment since … Monday? Sunday? When did I go to the ATM?
I’m really really excited about my new deodorant. The design on the label stopped me in my tracks at Target and I had a hard time deciding which of the three new scents to go with. They all sounded so inspiring!
I haven’t had a chance to try it out yet, though, because the last time I showered was … Tuesday? Saturday?
[This is old but I’m tired of writing new stuff and anyway it’s Star Wars-y.]
- - -
"Princess Leia! You will tell me the location of your hidden rebel base! I bet it’s in your panties!”
"Please don’t use that word."
"That’s it! Bring in … the probe droid.”
"Hang on a sec."
"What’s a matter, princess? Scared of the feelings my probe droid gives you? Titillated by the prospect of being probed real good?”
"Are you trying to do the torture scene with that floating ball with the hypodermic needle?"
"Oh my god. OK. Josh, that’s the IT-O interrogation droid. You’re thinking of the reconnaissance probe droid that was sent down to Hoth. Those were produced by Arakyd Industries. IT-O was designed by the Imperial Security Bureau."
"OK. Well then I’m about to interrogate your Sarlacc pit!”
"So you’re saying my vagina is a cavernous, toothy monster that slowly digests men for a thousand years."
"I … yeah. I mean, right? That’s hot."
"How would you like it if I said your penis was not unlike a dianoga?"
"Oh yeah baby. What’s that?"
"The gross slimy horrible little creature that lives in one of the [first] Death Star’s garbage compactors, feeding on trash like … what was her name? Sapphire? Your girlfriend in college?"