Self Conscious, the J Eric Miller blog

Sunday, March 20, 2005

list and then block

it's official:
--punk'd is tired and watered down, and no matter how much ashton k howls and grins, it doesn't mean he's done anything truly funny.
--my new book is out, bloodletting and fruits of lebanon. for info.
--nobody really knows which way the rainbows.
--melissa's blog has been dismantled.
--i hate the word novella.
--atlanta is 2142.56 miles from san diego, 2677.33 miles from seattle.
--people love to be the spy but nobody can keep a secret
--the best time you'll ever have with the thing you buy is when you buy it.
--the smartest people i know are all women, but each of them is a little boyish.
--love songs are mostly written from the perspective of that first buzz of obsession or that deepblueregret stage of romanticizing someone you didn't appreciate when she was around.
--butterflies don't kiss.
--there are no beautiful women
--there are no strong men
--that's ok.
--leonard cohen knows he's going to die. listen to his latest album.
--sometimes, even you know you're going to die.
--the kind of parenting with which most people credit God would get you a dirty look in a grocery store.
--grains of pepper are bigger than grains of salt, but you wouldn't want either in your eye.
--if you could push your belly button and be instantly dead, nobody would survive the teen years
--this is not harpers.
--writing is the same form of vanity as modeling. "look at my brain! look at my soul! look at my heart!"
--if you live long enough, you'll probably forgive yourself everything.
--fish feel pain.
--kpp has a name, adrian, and a face
--vonnegut was mostly right. god bless your mr vonnegut.

friday and saturday at the bars. met a local author, i'll plug her book: flyover states. very clever stuff, snappy and insightful. i was innocent enough to be reading it at the gym. me sitting there with chick lit in my lap. at a bar i met a girl who had been on room raiders. she challegned me to a sword fight with those little red drink swords. i've watched room raiders. i'm not proud of this or much of the tv to which i'm witness. i tried to remember if i'd seen her episode. she had one of those mouths that look capable of real acts of devouring. through it she told me something clever i meant to remember for this blog but have forgotten. everybody was drunk. god, it just dawns on me: that's what bars are for. seen from a really grave distance, this would seem problematic. some outerspace race studying us would it find it very odd. that and all our other little suicides. all the destructive things we do that pass for remodeling. on the radio last week they were advertising a "little person" stripper. they were going to have her at a local club, dancing under the name pixie. i've really got little taste for strippers after having shared a divorce with one. it's not the profession, it's just the contex, it's full of memories. the way certain albums you might not listen to again for awhile. anyway, i never was really a strip club guy. you know, seduction is too serious to bring cash into the question. it was really a flat weekend of drinking and semi-socializing. nothing sticks from it very hard. what's there i've got to really drag up, and it's only sunday. my brain is getting worse. depending on what you mean by worse. tomorrow, noon, i read. i'll write you about me reading. then i'll read you about my writing. something like that. driving home one of these weekend nights it occured to me that i'm again at a place where i could stand not to be alone. hmmm.