I guess I should recognize immediately that I am writing this after the turn of midnight, so I am technically not in Tuesday anymore.
This is a brain dump activity. I am attempting to do on paper what I would probably be flushing from the day’s activities into my dream world.
A mind dump.
Flava of Love
The concession guy telling me that he wasn’t going to peel the “Free refill” sticker from my cup even after his supervisor specifically told him to peel the sticker then proceeded to walk away. A much appreciated act of defiance. He wasn’t out anything by giving me the opportunity to freely enjoy as many refills as possible.
To the concession dude.
Forgotten things that I wanted to write down but wasn’t close enough to paper and pen.
I hate those moments.
I wonder what it is like being famous. I don’t think I would like the microcosm that is fame. It must be nice to be a potentially influential figure in many people’s lives, but, oh, what a burdensome life that could be. I choose my words wisely when I say this. I could have used “would” instead of “could” in the sentence before last; how big of a change would that have made?
Fame could be fun. Therein lies the danger.
Fame could be dangerous. My quick-to-rise ego, as demonstrated many times in the past, has the possibility to inflate quickly.
The need for strong support in my life is so important lest I perish faster, and with more catastrophic results, than before.
I never really pondered how much of a balancing act a life in balance requires. I need time to free my brain amidst all the stimuli – way more negative than positive most days – and release whatever negative nuggets are rattlin’ ’round.
This is not an attempt at fame.
This is not an attempt at money or attention.
This is me facing me.
You just happened to stop by.
Townes Van Zandt. I hear he was a son of a bitch. He had some good songs though. Very soothing melodies. I have to be in one of those moods, which usually show up late in the evening (or, in this case, early in the morning), that allow my body to relax. Fortunately, one of those times is now.
Woke up at 5:10 P.M., but thought it was A.M.. I wasn’t completely startled, but I was surprised I slept that hard through the entire night. Fortunately, I had just awoken from an hour-long nap.
I wouldn’t have been that surprised if I had fallen asleep for that long. I don’t sleep much. Not by choice. If I could allow myself the luxury to switch my brain off for a few hours and just completely immerse my entire being in sleep, even just for 5 – 7 hours, I would probably restore my health 10 years. Or, at least, I would FEEL like I had completed that task, a task with little effort outside of detaching myself – like cutting the cords to an entire city block so the bad dudes could wreak some major havoc in one of those 80s buddy cop movies – from my ENTIRE being. Like pulling a plug. Like changing a battery.
I keep wondering what things are going to be like in 10 years.
I keep wondering what I could have changed, and how I could have followed through with those decisions, in the past 10 years.
I keep forgetting that both of those decades do not exist right now.
Fortunately, I remember that thought right now.
Unfortunately, thoughts like those are not as relevant in a brain dump.
or are they?
I shot the basketball well today. I think I am adapting to the new depth perception these glasses have presented me. It took a minute. The workouts help also. I am stronger and my stamina / breathing is improving. Persistence.
Laundry tomorrow. Not here yet. (Actually, it is here, BUT I don’t have to accept it.)
Benadryl is finally doing it’s job. Took a few days but I feel my eyes drooping.
Which book shall I check in with tonight?
The Simulacra (Philip K. Dick)
The Witches (Stacy Schiff)
The Art of Comic Book Writing (Mark Kneece)
Or a movie, perhaps? Nothing that I will finish tonight. Just something to whet the brain’s pre-dream appetite.
Probably too much action for the hour.
If only for the Bolo Yeoung barrel throwing scenes and his electrifying departure from the film.
Time to lay down. My fingers are still not as fast as my thoughts. If only.