Fortuna, You Degenerate Wanton! (Relics From The Print Age)
Now Playing: Sergei Prokofiev--"Lieutenant Kije Suite: The Birth of Kije"
I think I'm on a kick where I get off on insulting various minor Greco-Roman deities, even if I have to crib my jabs from A Confederacy of Dunces and Ignatius Reilly's Big Chief tablets. I braved a long, hard day Tuesday, and went straight home, even though there was a last-minute show at the Madison featuring the divine Kelly Caldwell. I figure if I'm not going to be good company around people, I won't go out. Simple as that.

I found my journal while cleaning my room. I stopped writing in it once I started this blog, only to record a particularly horrendous nightmare on 17 May. Most of it's pretty depressing, the kind of stuff I really wouldn't allow here. One really wouldn't picture such things inside, especially with the quote I put on the front from the classic 1967 Dean Martin "Matt Helm" vehicle The Ambushers:

"Matt, have you ever seen a flying saucer?"
"Is that your way of offering me a drink?"

It's not all doom and gloom, though. Some highlights:

1 Sep. 2003: "Chad, the misanthropic bartender at Don Carlos, just showed up outside our apartment, helping our upstairs neighbor, Lamotte, with... something. I wonder how long it'll be before rumors of my apparent affair with Sean start flying around that accursed place."

15 Sep. 2003: "For some considerable time I woke up with weird bruises on my upper thighs, and curious, inexplicable scratches on my arms. I used to wonder if succubi came to visit me while I slept, beating the shit out of my and calling it 'love.'"

6 Oct. 2004: "I've decided to try and be as outwardly cheerful as possible on the streets of Ann Arbor. So many people rush around here stone-faced and/or chattering into celphones (presumably to make it more like 'play New York' than it already is) that they hardly ever say 'hi.' A poster on the 'Ann Arbor Is Overrated' forum, to which I've become addicted, mentioned the 'robotic' attitude of many citizens. Since it's apparently uncool in Ann Arbor to smile and nod or say 'hi' to people, I intend to start doing it as much as possible, if only to piss people off."

20 Oct. 2004: "I dread trying to alter the margins of my thesis this evening. I do't want to do it and I don't want to think about it, and I can't believe I'm being this much of a dweeb about it. Tiffany produced a magical moment today with the look on her face when told (by me) that Linda had promised to remind her about the exposed chicken in the kitchen the previous afternoon. If anyone ever actually reads this, I'd like to apologize beforehand for the intensity of this entry's narrative power."

31 Oct. 2004: "I just finished Zola's Therese Raquin in an hour and a half--it was that gripping. I can see the ancient vampire, so confident and supreme in his ancient ancestral dominions, confronting the work with a mounting sense of discomfort and disgust. Used to heroic lays, his fathomlessly cruel mind actually rebels against the tawdry crimes and self-justifications of Therese and Laurent. A good scene, to be written later." It still hasn't, by the way.

2 Nov. 2004: I'm actually not going to print this one, just to say that I got drunker and drunker as the night went on, perhaps sensing what would happen, and my writing became more and more illegible as a result, ending in a barely decipherable "please kill me."

3 Nov. 2004: "'Planet of the Apes' just came several steps closer to docudrama."

28 Nov. 2004: "I turned thirty while watching 'Yor, Hunter From The Future.' Thought one should know."

15 Dec. 2004: "I just finished the latest 'Entertainment Weekly', and there's an article on Ursula LeGuin, commenting on the upcoming 'Earthsea' miniseries. The picture accompanying the relevant blurb reads 'Die, you otherworldly skank!' Maybe that'll be my new email signature."

11 Jan. 2005: "Wilkins went missing this morning, as did half the rations and three-quarters of our sled-dogs. It was bad enough, being equidistant on this icecap from the Pole and from base in Palmer Land. This new occurrence, however, is a disaster, and the strange howls and ghostly voices drifting across the frozen wastes don't help me sleep better at night. Ellen, if you ever read this, remember that I tried to do my best for you and the children, and that I have never loved my country so much as I do now." Okay, that isn't really mine.

15 Feb. 2005: "I dreamed last night that Chris [Wieder, my best friend in college] and I attended a special premiere of a multimillion-dollar movie about golf at the invitation of Rod Stewart, who was present at both the showing and the gala afterparty. What the fuck was that about? Watch that actually happen to us."

There are others, one of my favorites being my partially drunken write-up of the No Fun Records showcase on 17 Oct. 2004, but these serve as a pretty good cross-section. I'd write about Art Fair a bit, but will hold that for later, save for the following observations:

(1) Every time I forget how much I hate it... I remember again.

(2) The "Jews for Jesus" seem considerably more aggressive than usual.

(3) The most frightening thing thus far: the horde outside Urban Outfitters at State and Liberty. Yeesh.

Sleep well, everyone. I won't.

P.S. Hey, it's "Moon Landing Day." I forgot about that.