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I've been spending a fair amount of time lately opening up walls and looking inside. It's part of my role as slumlord to actually do some dirty work now and then when something goes wrong. SometimesI find some interesting artifacts inside, from pull top beer cans to 1950's newspapers. More often than not, there's not much there besides plaster dust and mouse droppings. Someday I'd like to build something from scratch and decide for myself what goes inside the walls. I'm reminded of the old Warner Brothers cartoon with the singing frog in the cornerstone of the building that is demolished...if you'll recall this scenario repeats into the future.

When I was a kid, we (my brothers and I) would go hiking with my dad in Yosemite every year. When my dad was a kid, he used to hide pennies under rocks on the same trails. He somehow remembered where they were and showed us some of the caches. We hid a fair amount of pennies ourselves but I'm pretty sure I'll never be able to find them. It amazes me how clear some memories are but others may as well have never happened.

Listened to Pixies quite a bit today. It's good pace music when I'm on the treadmill.


I think of myself as a very logical person (albeit someone who is occasionally ruled by irrational emotions) and I've come to the conclusion that I don't understand anyone and probably never will. Sure I might think I understand someone when taken at face value but (most) individuals incorporate such indescribable comlexity (or lack thereof) that in the end, I'm baffled more often than not when puzzling their motives and actions. To be fair, I believe that I understand my own motives but at times am puzzled by my actions.

I can't count the number of times I've had plain and frank discussions with people I'm engaged in business with, only to have a rude surprise later on. Signed contracts are great and all but nobody really reads those anyway, do they? Which is why I emphasize the small print but it still seems to sail over, under or through without absorbing. Language is the key as well as the impediment to my communication. So perhaps my problem isn't with speaking but with listening. I've always excelled at those comprehension tests (read the paragraph, answer the questions, receive the food pellet instead of the electrical jolt, repeat...) but perhaps those skills don't actually translate into real life. Perhaps the fact that I test well means I'm doomed to be a misunderstood, socially awkward loner (Smiths jokes aside, I'm a bit old to be discovering or admiting this). Maybe I'm looking to feel something that just doesn't exist.

"Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four. If that is granted, all else follows." -- Winston Smith

"Freedom is, just the end of the longest downward climb." -- John Doe

Bob Mould in rotation today. If you don't have a copy of the album Copper Blue by Sugar pick it up and give it a listen. If you don't like it, don't tell me as I'll probably read too much into it...



So I decided it was time to start writing. This actually happened last week when I spent a good deal of time placing my thoughts on paper (or pixels rather) only to erase them the next day while renaming the file. I guess that fits in well with my normal creative process of writing, critiquing and eventually destroying what I've written, before anyone has a chance to read it. I suppose that is the point of this exercise. To put words on paper (or publish them in pixels if you prefer) and hold them there for anyone who cares to read them (I don't suppose that will be many...). I'd like break my habit of spending a hour on each paragraph writing and editing to perfection, only to tear it up the next day. So here goes, no edits (after the fact) and no obsessing on the minutinae of structure. But enought about the reasoning behind it...

Today I downloaded an audiobook mp3 of George Orwell's 1984. I'm looking forward to listening to it as I've read it a dozen or so times (last time on a flight home from London where I picked up a copy at the Camden market, seemed only fitting). Are audiobooks the sign of laziness? Can't say that I really care, for some reason they just seem right at the moment.

Books I want to read (or listen to) again:

There are of course, many more on my list but none come readily to mind at the moment. Perhaps the list will grow...

Music seems to play an integreal role in my life. Not sure if that makes me ordinary or odd, but the fact is that I often obsess on certain pieces and will put them into heavy rotation. (At times a single track will cycle on repeat indefinitely.) Today (and yesterday as well) were all about Hunky Dory by David Bowie. I guess if I had to pick one song though it would be Kooks.











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