on loop
I listened to “No Code” about a dozen times at work tonight.
I will spare this journal the lyrics to “present tense.” because, you know, no one else has ever gotten anything intensely personal out of a Pearl Jam song, and I want to play this coy.
I watched “Little Miss Sunshine” just now. the fact that the plot had a half a dozen paper-thin moments was overshadowed by the wonderful performances turned in by the cast. also, it would be entirely impossible to imagine either of my grandfathers snorting heroin.
well, maybe Grandpa Leo. I guess.
so this is it. holiday weekend, and I’m working through it.
it’s not so bad right now. I live a pretty straightforward existence out here as is. I get up, go to work, go to lunch, go back to work, eat a taco, drink a beer, go to sleep. as such, I’m out of shape.
but none of that has really changed. half of the neighborhood has hung Christmas lights on their apartment buildings, but it’s almost easy to forget that it’s the holidays.
I’ve got nothing going on. I don’t see anyone anyway. I don’t have a tree in my apartment (they’re a little hard to get a hold of in the desert, anyhow). so while I’m missing it, it’s not slapping me in the face. I don’t really like it here, and that’s not new, so I don’t feel especially horrible right now. we’ll see in a day or two, though.
I’m going to try and make lasagna, because irregardless of how little I do it I actually enjoy cooking, and it’s not like I’m going to be able to go buy anything to eat anyway. everyone here’s Catholic. no one’s doing shit on Christmas. so why not try my hand at burning an Italian casserole?
I got a text message from Mar and presumably Mike tonight. “Capitalism sucks, don’t it?” cause I’m at work.
yeah.
I know what both of you’re thinking. you’re thinking I’m sitting here miserable, complaining and moaning about how bad I’ve got it. I’m sitting here, stewing in my own pessimism.
not exactly. but the idea of you both thinking that and considering me so predictable pisses me off. and the fact that it’s pissing me off pisses me off moreso. because, alas, I am often so predictable.
this, all of this here, it isn’t so bad. I know this.
I’m trying, god damn it. I’m trying real hard.
