november 19, 2002 - 12:22 - recommended dosage
when they first came out, i considered those listerine micro-dose "sheets"
just about the most damn clever thing i'd seen in ages.
tossing, overnight, an addiction that haunted me for years; the
worn-smooth altoids tin hits bottom of the sock drawer, and i begin to stash
packs of my little blue bounty in corners throughout the house.
i even spent ages sarching for one of those keychain mounted tab dispensor
holders, the ultimate accessory for a fresh breath tab-addict.
keep the dispensor full, and never stumble through your bags for a
quick hit again!
...or so i thought.
attached to your keys, and rustled thus in your pocket, heat is generated.
heat semi-melts the tabs, and upon cooling, they become adhesive
and stick to one another like a stale fruit-rollup on saranwrap.
(and no, you can't tell me that you don't know what i'm talking about...
the panicked response, as you tore at the fruity flesh with your teeth,
a desperate attempt not to let your bounty go to the waste bin).
...it's really quite the same for the minty fresh addict.
during such an occurance, the victim will first carefully try to seperate
the stack, attempting replace the undesired applications back into the
dispensor. sadly, this usually corresponds with the "there's a cute
(boy|girl) and i've got garlic-mouth shakes", shakes that render steady hand
movements a neigh impossibility.
about this time, the true dilemma surfaces: discard the unused stack
(typically 4-6 inidividual hits), or continue bumbling with the pack?
no true addict would purposefully toss a hit, deciding instead to
risk the twisted face of a 6 sheet dose.
so there i stood.. hands still shaking, now
fighting desperately to restrain reaction to the eye-watering listerine
explosion tenaciously coupled with the ungodly gag reflex imposed by the sheer
revolt of a tongue bathed in a gelatinous semi-soluable substance that
clung to the soft pallete like stinging mayonaise.
"phank eew", i mutter through tightly
clenched mouth before grabbing my receipt, and turning to run for the
bushes propped against my bike, parked just outside the door.
sometimes, being a junkie sucks.
november 14, 2002 - 08:21 - nothing else to go on
it's a funny thing, having a pet
that hibernates. not only do they eat less, they're kind of an
emotional barometer... an external projection of the internal
state of affairs.
now, as days grow short, and the sky hangs pregnant and gray, he lies,
breathlessly still, under the meta-log he pulled on top of himself.
it is certain that he's sleeping. all that is questionable
is the relative permanency of that sleep.
some mornings, feeling macabre, i am certain that his time with me was
short and sweet; in all honest, how much chance does anybody have in an
orange topped acquarium anyway?.
others, like today, i'm certain that we'll meet again in spring...
so the routine continues: i cautiously lift the plastic lid, carefully
remove yesterday's uneaten grass, and tenderly replace them with fresh
selections from this morning.
*sigh*
november 10, 2002 - 17:10 - 'i'm just a geriatric'
so yesterday, the girl received comp. box tickets to a show at the
rose garden. -although i had no prior plans for the evening, i
found myself shuddering at the prospect of this engagement.
not that it's a band i wouldn't want to see, (and in fact, had seen
many times before), it's just that....
when we finally found our seat, a quick survey of the crowd confirmed
that i was (unquestionably) the oldest person in our section.
ramifications of this observation were quickly compounded with the
torment of sitting (with headache) amidst a bunch of punk-rock 15-16 year
old girls, all gigglishly anticipating the evening's act, and...
well, quite honestly, it was the fact i was sitting at a 'stadium show' of
a band i used to see in garage-type venues. (ironically, a time
when i was of similiar age to my current company).
this thought, in and of itself was daunting.
what really did me in was the realization that that time was now
almost a decade in my past. (admittedly, more than a few life
chapters ago).
--were the then-me to see me now, i would have been lucky to get off with
less than a few scathing remarks. as it was, (lacking lapses in the
space-time continuum), i got off with a heavy dose of sticky-sweet
nostalgia, and a minor migraine.
in retrospect, damn if that doesn't make me feel older still.
november 7, 2002 - 15:10 - it's happening again
the night before last, i dreamt i was riding a coke can named lou, in a
desperate attempt to escape a used popscicle stick that was chasing us.
even now, i shudder at the menace of the grape soaked-wood, still adhesive
with simple sugars, collecting little bits of organic debris as it hovered,
just slightly above the ground. aerodynamic apperatus, sliding after
us, through tall grass.
the coke can i rode bore the logo of the "new" coke (now expired), which
(thankfully) proved to be faster off the shelf than our somewhat discarded
persuant.
the very framework of this dream was outrageously dissimiliar to any that
i can recall in adult life.
ironically, it proved folly for last night's dream, where beingboring
productions teamed up with the funhater group (llc), in an attempt to
recreate the scene in film.
explaining a dream, in a dream, to others that i'm just dreaming about?
( i've made a mental note to avoid sleeping for awhile.)
november 6, 2002 - 17:35 - just can't get enough
just received confirmation that my new super-voltron momo boots have
arrived. (after a few triple digit velocity experiences, my
adidas-clad ankles were feeling kinda foolish...) admittedly,
it's clear that with recent garage developments, previous (scooter based)
definitions of adequate rider "safety" seem to be impossibly outdated.
finally arriving after weeks of anticipation, i find myself only
half-excited; as fate has it, just today i discovered the
technological marvel that is the momo airbag. hot damn, if
that's not an inspired creation.
...it's never enough, is it?
..........
sidenote: remember in jr. high school when the boys would get into
fights behind the gym?... just before the first contact
was made, they'd subconciously begin to swell up like monkey-shaped pufferfish,
as they walked in dizzying circles around each other.
(characteristics i later realized bore striking similarities to the mating
ritual of pigeons)
anyway; imagine how intimidating this would be to somebody who didn't know you
were wearing it!!! --just might've saved me a bully-inflicted black
eye or two.
november 5, 2002 - 23:12 - truth in advertising
motivated by hunger, jack crawls out of his edit-cave to find it dark
outside, and the fridge disparigingly devoid of remotely edible matter...
somewhat ironically, the girl had stolen his car earlier that morning,
so jack steps to orange-bike and sets out for pho to go.
half way there, he pedals past the marquee in front of McDonalds,
advertising their "Big N Tasty" meal deals. normally, this would
not be of note, but it appears that this evening, mother nature had a
sense of humour.
one of the letters had half-fallen down, and now, hanging precariously on
the row below it's true home, changed the very foundation of the sign's
message... (quite nearly sending jack to his death, as he laughs off
the curb and out into the street)
limited time offer: 'Big N asty' meal deals.
okay, whatever. it was damn funny at the time.
november 5, 2002 - 01:08 - finding the high again
after sitting in front of this computer since 8am (yesterday),
i have just under a minute of 'sequenced product' constructed and
tenatively approved.
( oh yeah, this is what it felt like to have time fold around you... )
november 4, 2002 - 15:27 - something which is no
longer mine
after alternate plans fell through, (the way that things you look forward
to always seem to do), i've opted to continue playing hooky from work this
week...
body driven by the folly of the heart, i embrace aspirations to complete (or
take a significant stab at completing) a film project that idles, half
forgotten in my mind, and embarassingly half-realized on tape.
..........
after spending the last 8 hours facilitating a log and capture dialog between
Ti and Gl1, my head reels. i have been so far removed from this project
that going through the images now is not unlike walking in a dream that
belongs to someone else.
november 3, 2002 - 20:41 - mac n' cheese + 126 keys
just amazing: after all the time and space that has grown
between my father and i since i left the house, i still find my
many of my mannerisms, (and in fact the very foundation of most of our
interactions), at times reverting to patterns i have not actively
practiced for over a decade.
admittedly, the weekend was not entirely like this; in fact, it was
relatively mind-numbing for many of it's own role reversals.
( who am i to give him advice on *life*? )
that said, i wonder if some of the concessions i made (i.e. flubbing
an easy-as-pie attempt at parallel parking), were worth the cost?
sure, his face lights up when he gets to tease me about my driving,
(an opportunity for him to return to the 'comfort-space' of
the dad role), but is it worth the torture of having to hear
about it all night?
then again, i only blew the first one on purpose. his
hair-trigger heckling was soo effective that the following three
attempts were aborted in flustered disaster...
*sigh*
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