Why don’t the titles have anything to do with the posts?

I was listening to the radio, and a friend of mine called in to give her opinion on the upcoming mayoral primary. It was a good way to wake up.



I have this shirt that has a whole list of things that cancer cannot do. Cancer cannot destroy peace. Cancer cannot suppress memories. etc... I don’t wear that shirt because all the shirt makes me think about is that cancer CAN kill you. It also does some things to people who don’t have cancer. It makes them lose hope of any justice in this world. It makes people move long distances. It can change your perspective on what’s really important in life. And in the case of one friend, it can literally make you research a cure. I’ve lost relatives. I’ve lost friends. I’m around folks who have lost relatives and friends. It binds us together across all boundaries. I guess that’s another thing cancer can do.

Around 6000 people a year die in mine disasters in China.

The bass player plays in a Smiths cover band. He says the singer’s hispanic, and doesn’t really speak english. I didn’t ask if he sings in spanish.

The quote of the week, from Mr. Robert Head; “She’s doing that girl thing where you go crazy. I hate that.”

I saw a lot of people tonight who were going somewhere. Maybe they weren’t really sure where, but they were walking fast, and had a look of anticipation mixed with uncertainty. There’s something about saturday night that makes people feel like they must do something crazy. Must get wasted. Must get dressed up. Must fuck. Must hurry up because it all has to be done and cleaned up before they turn into a pumpkin on monday morning. I just want to get out of their way. I don’t have a weekend. I don’t feel that time limit. Saturday every night. Never a monday morning.

Happy birthday MD.

This cat is missing a leg, and is very friendly.

I don’t know if you meant to, but...

She’s funny, and smart. She knew I didn’t really go because of her, and she sorta rubbed it in my face.
I’m having one of those moments when I hate everything about everything. More important is the fact that I hate only writing about the bad shit. I will say this; there hasn’t been hot water in my building all day, and who’s going to fix it on a weekend?
I might be in two art shows in the next month.
I totally forgot to go see Mr Gibbs after work, and wish his lady a happy birthday. That’s the worst part.
I’m really close to actually writing out that list.
I need to get a lot of sleep tonight.
I will probably be sick tomorrow.

And I shouldn’t have gone to the party.

I don’t want her to think I went for her.
I really need to do something about this place. Too much stuff around me, and I feel heavy.
I was so calm and relaxed in Texas, and noticing that change has helped me keep perspective on what should and should not get me uncalm and unrelaxed in my home town.
I had a list of things to do today. I didn’t do any of them.
I even forgot to take my pills.
No one showed up to play last night.
Waiting for the shuttle to land.

No, I didn’t sign the card.

I found this in a dumpster the other day.

It’s an old iron. It reminds me of old Tom and Jerry cartoons. Can’t you hear that Tom scream as the iron falls on his foot?

Atkins filed for bankruptcy.

I just received three or four mosquito bites on my ankles. Hopefully he’s full now. I don’t think that chair picture down there is too good. Time for a hair cut to start the month off right. I’m going to sleep at work thursday night. I didn’t do enough today. Or yesterday. I need a plan to dig out of all the junk in here. A friend is waiting for something inspiring to come up. In the meantime, he says things are slow. There hasn’t been a new Joe Frank show in too long. Except the first night I was there, I had a dream about work every night I was in Texas. The first night I had a dream an old friend committed suicide. The news guy just made a big deal of how Andre Agassi is so old, and he’s the same age as me. I think I’m going to start checking air fares. Maybe bus fares.