raybear: (sunglasses)
Tonight I was thinking, damn, once again I'm jonesing to sit down and get all this stuff out of my brain that's been swirling around on the topic, but I can't because even though I'm at work and its quiet, I have this freelance job I need to work on. So I sighed and ho-hummed and got down to it, but when I went to get started on the second part, there were technical errors outside of my end of the deal and its too late, there's no one in the office, so oh well, guess I'll do it first thing in the morning!

Onto thoughts about my body. )
And now I have the fortunate problem of a closet full of pants that are all too big for me. Not too big that I can't wear them, just not as terribly flattering as I'd like. But I'll suck it up because there are worse problems to have. Besides, I have some awesome summer wear that I can fit into now. I will seriously be wearing the same two pairs of short pants/long shorts ALL SUMMER.

And if anyone out there is in need of some Kenneth Cole Reaction dress pants, perhaps some sort of swap could be arranged. They are all size 38, some are 38x30, most are 38x32. But give me a few months to settle into this new body, I don't want to have to be acquiring pants 10 times a year.
raybear: (scream)
I woke up at 6:20 am, to the sun rising and a clear sky. A chilly, nice-feeling morning, when I took the dog into the backyard. In the past two hours, the outside has been transformed to a murky-brown overcast of pre-rain. Wait, no, as I was typing this, I stopped to look out the window and now it is officially raining. Leaving the house is going be a bit harder now.

Also, I don't understand why large companies that are making money discontinue products that are amazing. I am wearing the most perfect t-shirt in the world, except it is imperfect that I don't have more of them in various colors and sizes (I mostly wear mediums, but sometimes I want larges). I found it in the clearance bin at TJ Maxx and in my looking online, can find no more anywhere else, everyone is out of stock and its not being made anymore. It is soft and well-tailored and held up after being washed. O! Universe, why, must I bear this cross?

My Presidential Tax Refund went through right before the weekend. Ok, I am spending some of it on non-needs, like a few meals out and a $10 necklace, but most of it I'm putting into a savings account and start drawing out monthly deposits from my paycheck too. I'm finally starting one of those damn things. I've been following the pay-down-your-debt-first strategy for the past couple years, and I'm far from done with that, but I want to do both because I figure, if some emergency comes up, or even smaller cash needs like an unexpected plane ticket ot medical bill or something, I'd rather have cash to pay than have to reload the credit card balances and put myself back in the same boat. Also, its a sort of philosophical/political act for me, of going against the unsustainable ways our larger economy and microcosm economies are perpetuating. Even though I'm sometimes strapped for cash a few days before a paycheck, I can't honestly and in good conscience say I live paycheck to paycheck, since I'm sure my privilege, education and good looks, er, friends, I mean, could get me a few months time to straighten it all out; but even so, I don't always have the luxury to act in every minor way of resistance I would like to do with money. So it feels good.

Even though I still kinda want to buy some bottles of cologne from Lucky Scent, and new shoes, and new clothes, and maybe a new ipod. Hey, I'm human.
raybear: (scream)
I had to go back and seen when I last posted, I couldn't remember. This is going to be one of those "and then I did this, and then I did this" entries, because I don't have any specific topic or anecdote to relay, but if I keep not writing, then more time will pass and the gap will get longer and actually the "And Then I Did This..." are mildly interesting for me to re-read years later because I forget about things I've done.

On Friday night I left work and went over to [livejournal.com profile] vfc's house to 'pre-party' before the show at Schuba's to which I had won tickets. I drank a lot. A lot. I mean, maybe not that much more than a regular evening that I have decided to Do Some Drinkin', but I did all of it in the span of 2 hours, instead of 4-5. I will say, being drunk did make being up front and the loud rock way more enjoyable. Because I am generally a crotchety old man, not hardcore, never have claimed to be. But I can have my moments, I suppose. After the opening band, Teenage FBI (GBV tribute band from Nashville), we went out to the front bar and pretty much decided then we weren't that concerned about making it back inside for the Pixies tribute band. We were chatting it up with a couple people and around the time this picture was taken, I realized, whoa, I am druuunk. Looking at it, you can see why I felt that -- the telltale red face and even droopier eyelids than usual. I was slightly alarmed by it so I must go home RIGHT NOW. I left about 3 minutes later. I sat on the bus stop and watched the smokers outside, realizing for the first time that the smoking ban will change the landscape a little, to match NYC and California.

I staggered home, literally -- I was kind of cracking myself up at my own weaving walk, in between whispering gratitude that I made it this far without self-injury, while also marvelling at the body and mind's ability to care of itself while so offkilter. I woke up the next morning and went to the gym. First, I put a ham in the oven, then I went to the gym with [livejournal.com profile] unscrambled and [livejournal.com profile] keetbabe and then I came home and ate the ham, which I was so concerned of it drying out, but instead, with the frozen pineapple in the pan and the tightly covered foil, it sort of exploded a little with moisture. But tasted good. We ate it and watched lots of CSI. Then we went to Links Hall for Method to Madness. Then to a bar afterwards where I put a dollar in the jukebox, but only got one song, but that's ok, I spent most of the time talking to Jyldo and Brad. I drank only soda, as the thought of alcoholic beverages made my stomach turn. We came home and watched more CSI.

I slept in yesterday and wished we had biscuits to eat with the ham. I thought about going to the store, but then realized, wait, I have flour and butter and milk and baking powder, I'm going to just make drop biscuits. They were most delicious right out of the oven, but I'm having a couple now for breakfast and they aren't too bad either. Then I spent an hour playing all my scrabulous games that I had been neglecting for two days. Then I watched the Simpsons movie. And I thought about [livejournal.com profile] thirdreel's assessment of it, which is that if you love Simpsons (the TV show), you will love the movie. If you kinda like Simpsons, you will kinda like the movie. If you hate Simpsons, you will hate the movie. I used to love Simpsons (the show), but now I just really like it, I guess, even though I haven't watched much of the past couple seasons. I ended up really liking the movie.

Then I took the dog for a walk and got her muddy. Then I came home and bathed her, which she was overdue for anyway. Then we watched more CSI. Then I read a bunch. Then we watched the movie Waitress which was quite charming, though I thought just a tad overlong in certain sections, which I only mention because in my opinion it would have possibly been absolutely perfect at 89 minutes, instead of 112. But still, it was quite good and I got a little teary-eyed watching the memorial for Adrienne Shelly afterwards. Then I finished my book This Breathing World and maybe didn't really like it that much, though was compelled by it during it. It was weird and dark and sexual and horrifying in ways I often like my books, but I wasn't terribly satisfied with interconnection of the stories, it got too sci-fi in its quasi-explanation, even though I think it was instead trying to tap into some idea of universal consciousness/muse. I don't know. It felt good to be reading a novel again, mostly. I've been out of the habit, outside of short stories, essays, small things.

And now here I am, finishing my coffee, slightly wonky from fumes of the cleaner used in the bathroom, going to the dentist shortly to have my permanent crown put on, then the gym, maybe a million other errands too. Also, its 60 degrees today. And it was yesterday too. Its weirding me out.
raybear: (scream)
This past Saturday was January 6th which is also known as "Ephiphany" and I didn't really put it together until yesterday that it was aptly named for myself, as I had two realizations and given that I am prone to hyperbole (sometimes referred to as "drama queen"), I could easily call these realizations an "epiphany". Although, I don't know, maybe the one about parental stuff was epiphany and the second one about writing was just bullisht -- I'm still trying to figure it out.

See, I realized I hate my novel. I said it outloud at one point while walking around: I hate my novel. It felt liberating to say aloud, in this quiet way, apropos of nothing, not in the middle of a tantrum or beating myself up for not being productive way. I don't just hate writing it, I hate thinking about what the fck the two people are doing and why anyone would care and how they are seeing the world and why I should look at it and how to connect all these bits of chapters I've been forcing myself to write for the past 2 months. And I immediately thought, ok, this is ok! I just need to make my novel something I don't hate, something fun and interesting to me again, like it used to be, and then I will get back into it. And it was ok.

Except, a few days later, it's not. I still hate it and maybe I loathe it more with each passing minute. I see other books being published currently that have similar characters and/or themes and I sigh and get angry at myself for being slow. I see cover articles of magazines featuring guys who could be my main character. It just all seems too late, time to move on.

But then again, this could just be Naysayer Me talking. Maybe it's easier to hate it because then I can not finish it, and not finishing it is what I've sort of been doing all along anyway. Maybe I should start a new project and see if that feels better. Though I suspect the new project will feel good and great for awhile, then I'll start to hate that too. Then I could go back to this novel. Except honesty, would I do that? Or would this be another Unfinished Raymond Project forever in production?

Or maybe I should just fucking churn out 100 more pages and end the fcking thing cause it's just really a first draft and put it in a drawer for awhile and let myself pout and hate it as much as I want while this draft is done. What's today, January 9th? Ok, I'm going to write 100 pages by the end of the month. I don't care if one of the chapters is a flashback about alien abduction and another chapter is a character listing all their sexual exploits. I'm just going to fucking finish something, even if it becomes a bizarre polemic in the loose form of a novel.

Forget inspiration -- I think anger and disappointment turns out more pages. The beautiful song of a muse is fleeting and hard to hear, but the spring of rage inside carried at all times can be tapped into at anytime.

May 2010

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