Journal 2001
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December 30, 2001
Found some great books at the used store in Colorado Springs… David Schow’s Lost Angels, Harlan Ellison’s Dangerous Visions, a Borges-as-editor The Book of Fantasy collection of fantasy and magical realism.
December 27, 2001
Cross country skiing. Not the same as downhill. But we did rocket down an icy road. It can be good to have a saddle, and/or can be good to get back into it.
December 16, 2001
Reading Larry Niven’s Ringworld.
December 13, 2001
Got three stories out there now.
December 11, 2001
Finished The Return of the King. I think might tackle the Silmarillion sometime. The depth of Tolkein’s world design is inspiring.
December 8, 2001
It can be good to have a groove. It can be good to get back into it.
November 18, 2001
The experience of seeing the movie Iron Monkey is amplified when enjoying it at the brew&view theater.
November 10, 2001
Started the last book, The Return of the King. Am very glad there are not as many songs as the first book. A song on every other page did not interest me whatsoever, and seemed out of place when the fellowship was trying to sneak around and avoid Sauron’s spies.
November 7, 2001
Reading Haldeman’s Forever War.
November 5, 2001
Finished Joe Haldeman’s book Mindbridge. Excellent.
October 31, 2001
I live somewhere else now. Liberating.
October 20, 2001
My life is different now. Those of you who know, are the ones who need to, and are sharing in the occasion.
September 30, 2001
I enjoyed the movie Amores Perros. Even long since I decided Pulp Fiction-esque movies were dull.
September 29, 2001
Jagermeister is nicer to me than beer. Nicer to the tummy. Nicer to the head. Is there a song in there? Bowling is nice too. And friends are better yet.
September 28, 2001
Nightmares. An old carnival wagon owned by my great great uncle. Grandma was telling me haunted stories about it. And another nightmare… that I was Johnny Depp. Which wasn’t so bad, but my fame did not help me against the mugger in the subway bathroom. Faux reality breaking into fiction.
September 20, 2001
Lightning storms are so beautiful. Even when they get close.
September 17, 2001
I have an idea. Let’s pour all our money and hard work into a space program, a real one. FTL hyperdrive and all that. And let’s just fucking leave this planet. Let’s leave the zealots behind. They call us godless and now they hate us so much they want us all dead. They can have this planet. Well, you may want to stay and drive your SUV, that’s okay too. Me, I want off. Maybe I’ll visit later. Probably not.
September 16, 2001
The local movie theater did not respond to my notification that they are featuring a movie by a convicted child molester. While I did not ask that they pull the movie, I did suggest that they inform their audiences at the ticket counter. Douglas Theatres owns all movie houses in Lincoln, except for the university Marie Riepma Ross theater that features non mainstream films. (We have to wait at least 4-6 months to see even movies like Pollock or Bamboozled when the Ross can get them. In a recent rude move, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was pulled from the Ross’ schedule when Columbia distributor gave it to Douglas Theatres just before Oscar season.)
September 15, 2001
An angry mob of three hundred people march on a mosque in Illinois. A man in Texas tries to run down an elderly Arab woman with his car in a mall parking lot, screaming at her, “You people get out of my country!” And I don’t have anything else to say.
September 14, 2001
My government keeps talking about how different the new war will be. How bodiless and sophisticated the enemy is. But they keep saying one man is a prime suspect. And they keep reminding us that prime suspect doesn’t mean they think he did it, necessarily. But yet, we all know that we’ll go after him, by political or military action. Is the media trying to compartmentalize the information for the public to digest, or is the government?
September 13, 2001
Watching and reading the news. All day. Late into the night. Wanting to take a leave from my job, drive to NYC. Help dig. Computer work seems stupid. Useless.
September 11, 2001
I could never have imagined that such hatred existed. Never.
September 9, 2001
Do you know about the Mothers of the Disappeared? Did you know how terrifying of a place Chile has been for its people? Did you know Henry Kissenger and the US government may well have been responsible for replacing a democracy with a military dictatorship that tortured and executed its people for the last thirty years? I just learned the last part.
September 7, 2001
In times of darkness and strife, I wish I would remember the beautiful things. Like Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka.
September 4, 2001
Searched for information about the director of Jeeper’s Creepers. Victor Salva is the same person who worked on Powder back in 1995, the movie I recall boycotting because of rumors of a child molester’s involvement. You can read all about the director at Andrew Vachss’ site here. I feel awful for supporting this movie with a ticket admission price, and despite my preference to know nothing about a film before attending, I must admit I have learned a lesson. Please read about Victor Salva, and do not support this movie.
September 3, 2001
Mondays off = good stuff. Halfway through The Two Towers. Know what has gone before you.
September 2, 2001
Dreams of dragons. Crawl and slither. Do not talk.
September 1, 2001
Attended the movie Jeepers Creepers last night. …(edited)
August 22, 2001
Ray Bradbury’s birthday. He, on the other hand, is not dead. I read an interview with him in Salon and there is apparently a new “movement” of recognizing his books and stories. I certainly feel like a science fiction visionary myself, because I saw him as smart and creative when I was only ten. By the way, there are still mushrooms growing in my bathroom.
August 20, 2001
H.P. Lovecraft’s birthday today. Except that he died in 1937.
August 15 , 2001
I wish they would bring in busloads of police academy trainees to aid in every investigation of every missing child, not just those who were supposedly involved with a D.C. Senator. Fucking twisted society, this.
August 10, 2001
The heat is unbearable here. The rain keeps passing by outside the city.
July 23 , 2001
There are things I never got to say to her. It amplifies the pain of Loss. I have to believe she can hear them if I say them now.
July 20, 2001
My friend has died. Too suddenly. Life feels fragile. Feels unfair.
July 19, 2001
Thinking of that line, (if you know the poem), and how it felt like that hour. But that rough beast, I think, has no hour that comes round at last. Its time is always now. It lives among us. It is here to kill us. And hurt the rest of us. This is its function. We can hate it… but can we destroy it? I cannot do it alone, my friends.
July 18, 2001
…
July 17, 2001
If you are fortunate enough to have healthcare, do not be a passive patient. Do not accept the minimal amount of care they give you. Ask questions, do your own research. Ask for options, seek them out. Make the system work for you. The doctors are not always good, but they are few. Help them to help you. Or your loved one.
July 16, 2001
A friend is sick. I fear I have not been as good a friend as she has needed.
July 9, 2001
Hmm. And there shall soon be big news, he said.
July 7, 2001
San Francisco. Even after my fifth trip here, I am fascinated by the Monterey Cyprus, how they are shaped by the wind. And the power of nature; how the storms have eaten away at the coast, the salty fog eats away metal and concrete. Buildings only a few decades old look like ancient ruins near the seashore. Fascinated too by the years the entire city burned down after the ’quake of 1906.
July 1 , 2001
They promised five days of storms. (The weatherpeople, not the rabbits.) I am still waiting. The sky is too hot. Too clear. Too quiet.
June 28, 2001
Rabbits surrounded my car yesterday. They pretended to be afraid, doing that trembling trick. They hammed it up real good, even darting around a bit. I know their game, oh ho, yes I do. I almost left my car at work and walked home. It may have taken me ten minutes to squeeze by them, but I got in and burned rubber out of there. The brake line was only a little soft.
June 26, 2001
Reading again those things we call books. With those word things in them. Brain slowly returning from its terrible slumber.
June 21, 2007
This is yourself. That’s right. Don’t look so surprised. I can’t stay. I have to get back. Just wanted to see that look on your face. And I’m not allowed to say anything. (Which a rule of my own.) You gotta work for it, kid. I figure you already know this one though: the future is lies. All lies. So you gotta lie right back to it.
March 21, 2001
The excellent gray cat, Amos, is most assuredly dead. What if I were a vigilante of cats. What if I ran over cars that ran over cats… the first thing I will need, then, is a monster truck…
March 16, 2001
So, this damn page has become a static Blog. This was not the intention. Master of puppets is pulling my strings…
March 12, 2001
I wish I was afraid of the water again. I wish my mind created those shapes and teeth moving down there… so I probably need to get to the ocean… see something wild. You forget most animals exist, unless you turn the TV to a nature channel.
March 10, 2001
Echinecia and cellos are my good friends.
March 9, 2001
The excellent gray cat that comes to visit me every other day seems to be missing. My neighbor says Amos has not come home for a few days.
March 7, 2001
Somewhere, a friend is alone.
March 2, 2001
The neighborhood is full of crows every morning. They walk in the yards and across the roads. Sometimes they don’t look fly away, they just look at the car.
February 28, 2001
Late getting out 3LBE. Waited too long for another good story to come in. Not liking the art Rew X is doing for me so far… perhaps I will fire him.
February 19, 2001
Rewriting an old story I wrote during college. The petrifaction simile again… replacing old words and paragraphs — and meaning — cell by cell. Was always fascinated by the similarities and differences in the two published versions of Raymond Carver’s “The Baker”
February 11, 2001
Sometimes the dreams have a smell. But never the right one.
January 23, 2001
Another year closes. I age again. But feel nothing. Thinking about my body, how it has probably peaked and has surely begun the pilgrimage toward death. Wonder whether some people are aware of what goes on at the cellular level, if they can feel the viruses invade when they get sick, the deepest change… now I recall, the other night I read Ray Bradbury’s “Fever Dream” short story to Aimee. a glow-in-the-dark children’s book edition. First appeared in 1948’s Weird Tales… can you believe that?!
January 16, 2001
I want to rant about my job. But I will not.
January 10, 2001
Dreams about rats in a post-apocalyptic world. What the hell was I watching before I went to bed?
January 3, 2001
We are still here. Unless the whole Matrix battery-slave digital reality is going on… nah, nothing is that simple.
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