May 22, 2004
Twenty years and counting
I wonder who I was those first four years of my life without you around to record me. I wonder who you were. If I have a sister it's you; if I have a conscience it's you. I've spent my life trying to catch up with you and here you go again, 25 before me. Happy birthday, Ktv.
Posted by didofoot at 11:52 AM | Comments (7)
May 21, 2004
Oh lord, again with the sniveling
We killed a village in Iraq.
When did I stop caring about what we're doing in other countries? I cared last year. I think it was when I realized there was nothing I can do...if we smash the state there will just be another state. History is built on slaughtered villagers. They were celebrating a wedding and we decapitated their children. It's nothing new.
Maria at work says we're living in the last days. She says it's all there in the Bible. I wonder if we are the Apocalypse horsemen and it's only the rest of the world that has to worry?
Posted by didofoot at 09:59 AM | Comments (69)
May 19, 2004
The hip bone connected to the
There's a boy in my class who looks just like Seth Green. Except he is much taller, and perfectly proportioned, and not even vaguely simian. But he has the same hair. Anyway, I spent all of yesterday's ridiculous immigration discussion eyeing him and wondering what he'd look like without his flesh on. He has great bones.
Yesterday I turned in all my papers, so as of today my time is my own. Whatever will I do with myself? I think it's time to heave pub night onto the slab, order Igor to set up the lightning rods, and get this monster back to terrorizing the villagers where it belongs.* Ideally someone else will do it, though; you know I am shit at planning events. Anyone?
*Kenneth Branaugh is biting his fist in agony over that horribly extended metaphor.
Posted by didofoot at 09:05 AM | Comments (23)
May 17, 2004
KRON and bunnies
The winds were breeding like bunny rabbits last night, hip-hopping around on each others' backs and knocking over small trees, people, the dauntless pigeons. You do not want to try distance spitting for the first time on a night when the winds are going at it in all directions, and that is a life lesson that I will pass along to you for free.
The KRON news truck was at my intersection this morning, as it is about once a week. I imagine the story was something like "Strong winds rocked the Castro last night, as residents cowered in their homes, watching television and fearing for their toupees. Six lampposts were nearly overturned and one small toddler fell over while walking. Will your neighborhood be next? Stay tuned." I love the news.
Posted by didofoot at 08:38 AM | Comments (0)
May 14, 2004
The topiary of the face
Saw the John Francis yesterday in all his beardy glory. How can he still be attractive with that fretful porpentine of hair clinging to his face? And yet the ladies seem undaunted.
Despite my remonstrations, the Lad, too, will be using his chin to smuggle a beard home for me. I was hoping for something pretty and exotic, like diamonds, but I'll take what I can get.
Posted by didofoot at 12:58 PM | Comments (7)
May 13, 2004
Red roadmaps and inkblots, red polka-dots
Dreamed I was drumming. "Well, fuck me," I thought, as the song started and I began tapping my sporks on the table frantically. "I have no sense of rhythm. How the hell did I get here?"
Woke up to a nosebleed from the stress of the dream. Little butterflies of blood now fluttering around on tissues in my trash. "Well, fuck me," I think, as I stare at my half-completed Ginsberg paper. "I have no sense of the Beats. How the hell did I get here?"
Posted by didofoot at 10:09 AM | Comments (0)
May 12, 2004
You must never wash your hand again
The Lad and Dan met a woman in Athens who knew Henry Miller. Did she know my best friend (and also Robyn's best friend) Anais Nin?
When he comes home, I will kiss the hand of the Lad who shook the hand of the woman who shook the hand of the man who touched the mouth of Anais fucking Nin. In this way, decades late, I will kiss Anais Nin myself, like delayed starlight moving from my living mouth to her dead and darkened planet.
Posted by didofoot at 10:29 AM | Comments (13)
May 10, 2004
Ow, my pride
I fell off my own feet again today. It seems that every so often my feet just decide, in the spirit of experimentation and without input from the brain, to try walking on their sides instead of their soles. This is painful but acceptable when barefoot, but when clomping around in ungainly platform sandals which you only bought because you needed black shoes and these were on sale, you've got a long way to fall. So, as usual, my foot twisted sideways to see what would happen and I stumbled and smacked the inside of my foot against the pavement and my shoe came off altogether and then I had to hop around cursing and chasing my shoe as it tumbled end over end trying to escape me and my elephant feet. Luckily no one was watching, except all the people who were.
Now there is a little piece missing from my foot; another fleshy sacrifice laid on the altar of the holy pavement. Lucky I didn't break an ankle I guess. Perhaps I should change my name to Dodofoot.
Posted by didofoot at 10:33 AM | Comments (5)
May 07, 2004
you know, for kids
If Mary Poppins is real, Burt the chimney sweep is actually a nine year old boy dying of scrotum cancer. And no one can fly.
Posted by didofoot at 03:09 PM | Comments (1)
May 06, 2004
now look
i seem to like the beats i seem to like to be drinking i seem to be drinking
'go home work on your papers and sweat all night' we were told and a girl said 'gross why do we have to sweat all night?' thinking of sex we all HOWL.
i got the tower, tarot, stupid card pack not going to tell me what to do.
my school friend heel-toes his foot over to my foot in every class. doesnt like me but his foot does like me. it is a tap dancing affair.
oh fuck i willbe sick
Posted by didofoot at 10:34 PM | Comments (1)
May 05, 2004
Happy Cinco
"Can you make sure and get a fund number from Chao today, and also see if you can get the guys to look at my phone and see what's wrong with it? And I need a lunch reservation for noon, and let's meet at 2:00 to go over that technical report, okay?" My professor-boss looks up to see me staring at him. "What?"
"It's Cinco de Mayo," I say reproachfully.
"Oh...happy Cinco de Mayo?" he says, at a loss.
"Some people take their employees out to lunch on Cinco de Mayo," I continue, "at the Mexican place on University."
"Go do your work," he says, shaking his head.
"Some people do not have their files sabotaged by their assistants while some people are teaching their morning class," I mutter and I go do my work with a vengeance.
Posted by didofoot at 12:14 PM | Comments (0)
May 04, 2004
In the morning
Wake up and roll around a while, considering the room from different angles. Try and imagine how it would look to various people I know. Does it look different in the mirrors, things like that. Stretch up my legs for a while and contemplate the ceiling. Then get up. Boil water for coffee and make the coffee. The cup goes in front of all the books, so that sitting in the chair I can reach out for coffee or for books. Contemplate the room from the chair.
The nearest books to the coffee shelf are Anais Nin, Henry Miller, Michael Ondaatje, so my morning thoughts become filled with hyperbole or sentence fragments, depending where I reach. The window has to be closed for warmth until the sun comes in for the afternoon. Then I listen to half a song on the stereo while thinking about the day.
Posted by didofoot at 10:35 AM | Comments (0)
May 01, 2004
People you've been before
Kim J leaves the city today, Maggie's leaving in June. So long, supper club. So long, Charles. Seems like the end of an era.
Been listening to "Between the Bars" on repeat lately. You weren't the only one with a house of cards heart, Elliott. Everything knocks me down these days.
Posted by didofoot at 08:19 AM | Comments (5)
