anthillz

I was watching tv the other day (and what’s sadder than watching tv in your sleep?) but only long enough to see the reproductive health clinic on Halsted. They were doing a story about artificial insemination, more of a comedy piece, and they had a drive by shot just of obviously the reproductive health place, but with an address on a street I have never heard of.
I went there (The one on Halsted) and checked in with a girl who said ‘Bling right?’ to which I said ‘just Mike’ so I wouldn’t feel bad about not knowing her name.
Friend of a friend sort of thing, I should have known it. Anyway, she gave me a pool pass and a cd-rom and sent me to the waiting room. I was comforted by two girls who looked my age, and I wondered if they were going to have my sperm injected into them. Then I realized that they were just there because they were friends with the girl who had checked me in earlier, and why had I never seen them before? They weren’t exactly beautiful, and they were almost grey, but I think pretty would work. I was pretending I knew where I was and what I was doing but everyone around me was becoming older. There was a lot of white hair.
I wanted to put on a stocking cap but both of the ones I picked up only looked like mine. At this point I was getting very uncomfortable because I wasn’t exactly sure where I was or what I was intending to do there.
Although I could imagine the impressed look in the indian nurse’s eye when I handed her an overflowing container. One ejaculation, many babies. How much would I get paid for this? Now that these old people were starting to enter a doctor’s office sort of thing from the waiting room, I thought it would be a good idea to ask what was going on.
To the indian nurse: ‘So.. what exactly is this place?’
‘We sell video cameras.’
Then I was a ten year old japanese boy who was having a baby.

Recommend me books.
I’ve been finding myself in a lot of situations where I ought to say something but don’t because I’m thinking about the fact that I ought to be talking.

I was looking through my address book today and it’s a mess. I’ve just let Outlook Express sort of organize it as it goes, and i’m telling you, that is not the way to do it. It’s ugly.
Bob gave me a good idea:
some things I want to do before I die (and I will die):
1. Organize my address book
2. Start a never ending book
3. Record an album, my own
4. Release a 7 inch, not necessarily my own
5. Peyote
6. Drop in in a half pipe
7. Invent something useful
8. Publish an article or review
9. Memorize some poetry starting with What Happens to a Dream Deferred
10. Jump off a bridge
11. Travel for no reason
12. Raise money for a good cause
13. Learn how to play the guitar properly
14. Make a bonfire on a beach
15. Wear no shoes for a week
16. Write a standup routine, not necessarily to be performed
17. Have a personal library
18. Write and or just direct a short film
19-23. Kinky sex stuff that I don’t want to get into on here
24. Make some babies, be a daddy
25. Meditate properly
26. Master lucid dreaming
27. Make sure people I love know that I love them
28. Believe in something completely
29. Create pretty stuff
30. Be a hermit for a while
31. Hang out in Europe
32. Get comfortable talking to strangers
33. Make up some slang that comes back to me

Je t’Aime.

Sam Cooke rules.
Sometimes I worry that my getting more and more (and more!) into slow tempos and subdued melodies is a sign of me getting old but then I don’t care.

More evidence of Buddhism every day (I’m reading Dharma Bums, I can’t help but see this stuff all over the place).
1. Change is inevitable.
I think I’ll make this a list.
2. When you really know someone you can almost tell how they are going to change.
3. It’s really sad when you used to know someone and don’t anymore. Wrong turns when you weren’t there.
4. A year can be a lifetime. A lifetime is a year.
5. Smells put you there. Regardless of time.
6. I sometimes want to reenact good times with people who don’t exist anymore. In my sleep I guess?
7. Crying over spilled milk.
8. There was a huge rat on my back porch today. I live on the second floor. When did rats learn to climb stairs? Scary thought.
9. Warm clothes out of the dryer.

An incoherent argument for there being no such thing as progress.
Things like Man vs. Beast, Star Wars technology and an uncountable number of programs pushed through by Bush, television in general, the state of the world, the state of music, the state of life in general make me wonder.
It could be (is) 1968, 1983, 1955, 1200.
There have been innovations. Memory forces that. But lack of memory keeps us in samsara.
Ignorance rules.

I wish freelance work came steady like a river instead of rare and thick like tsunami’s or something. I’ve got no control over that and I’m going to end up letting some of it wash out to sea probably. Gots to keep organized.
Resume site is totally coming some day.

Once my good friend and roommate Matt passed on a bit of untrue (I think) information to me and it screwed up the way I go to sleep, probably for the rest of my life or at least until I (hopefully) forget about it. Maybe I have to pass the curse to someone else and it will not follow me. Anyway, remember this:
Your sleep cycle is 2 hours. You should get an even number of hours of sleep.
So for example, if it’s 2:30 and you have to get up at 10:00, you have to stay up until 4:00.

I think my computer here at work may be pregnant. She gets morning sickness. Morning sickness being crashing 22 fucking times every fucking morning. Anyway, it will all be worth it when a baby notebook pops out.