The Diary Project

Weekly Journal


Maybe, I should go down with a drink in my hand.

This Self Portrait is a good decade old, a head shot, looking upwards, the blue sky in the background, in the past, the bamboo shoots looking over my shoulder have bothered me, but not anymore

Ah, to be young and idealistic once again.

Cooling Off
In More Than One Way

DREAM: Someone stole the tandem bike I left in front of our boutique store. After packing up, we were getting in the truck to drive around and see who might be riding it.

DREAM: The middle-aged Japanese tourist was giddily shouting 'Underwater! Underwater!" whenever he saw anyone wearing their pants low, so as to expose their underpants.

DREAM: The test had four questions, two of which were how to make curry and timeo. She didn't know how to make either even though she looked like she should know how to make both. {And, no. I do not know what timeo is supposed to be.}

Are you willing to offload your thinking to another?

I'm taking a Ten Minute Break every Ten Minutes.

WRITING: I posted Last Week's Journal, which is a bit aggressively fast for me, and my Stone Cold Soup write-up. It frees tomorrow for whatever.

TALK: The nature of Intellectual Honesty.

WALK: Mostly just sitting on the bench in The Far Park, talking on the phone.

FOOD: A Nice Bean Dip.

And now, I've fallen into a chair. I must have worked out more yesterday than I realized. I'm tired. And my legs have had it.

Toddling Along

DREAM: I think I messed up his presentation when I noticed the last two issues (of competing versions of a similar/same car magazine) focused on V-8 Beetles. But then, that's one of the problems with having a Q&A before your talk is over.

DREAM: Dad was on vacation (or returning soon). I was at his apartment and was planning on doing some of his laundry with my own. But soon we were going out to eat. Pizza if I remember correctly. It was one place then the next.

Let's start the day with a Dance Party.

FOOD: BBQ Take-Out Sandwiches. I really haven't had that many French Fries in the past six months.

Bonding Over Television is probably not that effective. But it is better than nothing.

WRITING: I'm going to post it. I wonder if I should.

FEEL: I've been napping lately. Eh, I've been depressed lately. Also, I seem to have time on my hands. And my vision is notching down, ever steadily. I will pull through... or I will not. I like to believe I've pulled through before. But I never called it depression before.

I like My Darling. Sure, call it love. But I can wrap my mind around like, completely. And I like her completely.

One has crossed a certain threshold when disposal of the body no longer matters.

Ha! Now, there's a juxtaposition for you.

Bored is the wrong word. None of my default activities seem compelling. I have run out of habit. But the day (or at least, a few hours of the night) remains. Today, I took no walk, did little writing, and it's raining, which might go a long way towards explaining my current situation. None of the rest {the available outstanding activities, any and all} make it into a typical day (i.e. this, that, or the other thing). So, why bother with them tonight? I'd probably be happy watching TV. But it's not working out that way. I've even thought of starting a game {of CIV}.

I read a chapter in Vanity Fair. It's been awhile since I did that.

MEDIA: Midnight Diner. It's worth a try. That's a recommendation.

Eight Counted Out. Let's start with a bang.

I could be a nicer person. But I don't feel like it.

Not Just Odin's Day

DREAM: Dropping into a low spot, I (or he) did not die in combat. The bullets were flying. Very Vietnam War'ish. At the end, it had the feel of a tourist junket. And in the end, I was left with the feeling Dreamland Combat is a metaphorical stand-in for conversation... or at least, communication. It would be odd if it were. I've seen a lot of combat In My Dreams.

DREAM: I was cataloguing books based on their covers... like I do for photographs: Date - My New Title - A Caption Equivalent.

DREAM: I was playing some sort of Civilization knock off. And when I pulled out of that, I was pretending I was a robot (LARP like) among a group of others who were not in on the joke... nor did I feel very much like I belonged with them. But we were going somewhere.

FOOD: Fried Catfish

FOOD: Leftover BBQ Sandwich

FOOD: Salad

MEDIA: Biblical Stories as seen through a Jungian lens.

Shall I write sonnets with my fingers in your hair?

Ben sells frogs at The Grand Canyon. He will tell you about it if you'd like.

What Shall We Do In Thor's Honour?
Eh, Probably Nothing

I, too, might start watching the news once it devolves into complete science fiction.

WRITING: I posted Eve after one final read through. It's pretty awesome. It's very much what I want out of a story.

EYES: I switched over to Latanoprost. My eyes feel pretty good. But that's not saying much.

"I had salad for lunch."

I got ready for a walk only to discover it's raining.

I'm supremely unmotivated, which is a lie. It would be more accurate to say I am enjoying the emptiness and finding nothing worthy to fill it.

I'm making Pea Soup, which I will enter as proof that I am not depressed and simply between.

September, October, and November constituent the season of Fall. Today was very Fall like.

It's going to be like this? Just kill me.

You did not kill me. Why did you not kill me?

I'm joking. Please don't kill me.

Pretty Please?

Still Alive

DREAM: After he returned to base, he was put under house arrest. I'm not really sure why.

DREAM: Money was tight. The one wasn't paying on account of losing money on the pinball machine. And the other didn't have enough to make it up to him. It was a study in how people stand when they are angry {i.e. a study in non-verbal communication}.

WRITING: I am wasting my time on a Silly Rant. It is allowing me to unpack ideas. But I question its utility as a piece of writing, as something to be read.

WRITING: It's amazing what I can get done just sort of puttering around. I'm not in {i.e. working on} any big project. But, yeah. If I did this little thing, that would move this project along. And this seems to come next (or at least, could), so...

FOOD: Pea Soup. Must I include the qualifier of homemade? Most of these FOOD listings are homemade.

And the slow transition from Ends to Means redoubles in earnest.

It's a Love/Hate Relationship, at this point.

Is unplugging from the popular culture and tapping directly into reality the most subversive thing a person can do?

How special is Conciousness? Is being Self Aware all that? Or even more so? Magically more so?

Day One

DREAM: We were biking through the tall dry grass. Fine. We were biking down a dirt road. But it's the few feet through the grass which I wish to remember.

DREAM: The big hotel was having an Easter Egg Hunt. Sure, it was for the kids. But I felt like giving it a go. I found not a one. I should have stayed where others were looking and finding. But there was some interesting stuff in the drawers, including games and a cooked cookie-dough do it yourself kit. Though, I think they were trying to sell the last, so not really where any eggs were going to be found.

Final Exam::: Forest and Grass Fires:: Compare & Contrast: Existing Organized Response? Cultural, Social, Legal, & Religious Aspects? Research, Findings, Results, & Recommendations?

The One informs The Other.

Fly Hunt!

MEDIA: Onward

FOOD: Beef & Cheese

MEDIA: DMT exposes Neural Biology Subsystems. Eh, this wasn't the intent (or so, I presume) of the speaker. But it's my leading hypothesis... to be proved wrong, which may well be tautologically impossible. Yeah, this definitely wasn't the speaker's intent.

Bug Hunters (fictionalized): I see the name as belonging to a Fetish Group. You do the math. Bugs & Sex! Sex & Bugs! Loving! Fighting! Cohabiting! I find it fun to imagine the different permutations.

Traffic Lights as part of a Sentient Network.

FOOD: Scallops

Day Two

An hour is enough time wasted, thinking about that.

Stop Desiring Life
Stop Fearing Death
Start Living

MUSIC: Liquid Illusions - Vertigo Vibrations. I'd call it a SciFi inspired PsyTrance.

Tommy & Mr Johnson by John Thompson

Bug Hunter: I should make some notes. Eh, I guess I'm just going to loop it around in my mind a few more times.

Some days just aren't note taking days.

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I guess that drink in my hand (which I mentioned at the top of this page) has been Hot Chocolate for some time now.

Bottoms Up!

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