haught: i will say that it’s better to wake up at 4am feeling weird than it is waking up feeling bad. no use retching or wrenching too much, either way. today’s weird enough to deserve feeling weird enough. everybody else starts school, and here i’m harnessed in the home office doing background checks and surveying byzantine, spaghetti-like corporate patterns of incest and outsourcing.
still, better weird than bad. there’s something a little chilling about my cohort’s dispersal. one of us is (blogging) in the north country, one of us is gun-toting with a newborn in Alaska..one of us begins life as a professor today…ah, and one of us is background-checking.
oh well, we’re stronger than the distances between us. and we’re always-already, literally and figuratively armed for bear.
naught: smoking cigarettes in spots. i don’t know what i let happen here, but nowadays i slip back into fuming when i’m in the bar with beers. it’s damn near embarassing. why not cut out the bars and beers while we’re at it, jack? who are you, norm from effing Cheers?
if you can even halfway tolerate spy stuff, this is for you. it is a wordy, almost entirely action-less 1979-80 BBC drama of the absolute highest quality, more smitten with pathos than patriotism. like le carre, whose writing rises way above any genre taxonomy you’d cloak it in, this set piece should satisfy even the cynical-est of literati. it’s got as least as many cigarette-smoking atheists as any bergman flick, for sure. (parenthetically: paraphrasing david markson, i find that le carre is by any metric a better writer than saul bellow… you?)
naught: re-injured trapesius.
ouch! this happens as i hit the doctor’s office and realize, shucks, i am, uh, not ready for bathing suit season. ten pounds heavier than i’ve ever done been, and unable to swim without ripping my back apart….i’ve gotta pull a don williams and learn some “New Moves.” yesterday i went to the thrift store to buy some “husky” clothes…seriously.
haught: rk. it’s a good thing love isn’t a meritocracy, cuz there’s no amount of fuzzy folly and wordy fire i could build up to deserve she who is kind of like a foxy rock of gibraltar. actually, i think love is most like a variable interest-rate loan. anyway, RK goes back to school today. it’s fun to watch her, and it’s fun to watch sandbaggers with her when she gets home. if only we could find her those sneakers with the retractable skates.
(and the seeming inevitability thereof….)
haught: a one day, there-and-back, ‘business traveler’-style junket to washington dc…to meet with all sorts of union bigwigs. is this the life i chose? this is the life i chose.
naught: baseball season’s coming to its own kind of crescendo means that soon enough there’ll be no baseball for almost half a year.
haught: sewanee in Oregon.
i have three key, key players from the late nineties in my midst now. i love introducing them to the eugene crew, then leaving the newfound friends to their palaver. it’s like i’m the only bloke in the bar who knows that a stink-bomb’s about to blow.
haught: the penultimate “patrick hayden” show for a while. friday i was joined by testface and derek for a barroom reiteration of the record…the thing is that the record’s not a bar rock affair….maybe it’s barely a ‘public’ affair at all. success nonetheless, i say! i was charmed and uncomfortable with all of the attention from great friends, as they and i both new the material didn’t allow me much to hide behind…thank god snider and derek were their to captivate imaginations while i myself left very little to the imagination….alas, this is the life i chose, as jordan’d say. i’m proud of the songs, but playing them feels half like streaking and half like, as the skull and bones chaps allegedly do, lying in an open coffin reciting my sexual history to WASPS. i think i will try to work up a full, electric band for this october gig…maybe slip in some deke/semi-finals songs and have a party.
i think i can get back to sleep now, probably. cool.