March 17, 2003 - 1:23 a.m.
been way to long since I updated.
Things are going well for, after a while where I was sure I had used up the last of my luck on that damn Kino ticket at the Tiki Lau last summer. Remember that time? Just having moved into my Dads' basement(fulfilling the standard requirements for your official Loser card at 25, although, technically, I was never part of a band that was just waiting to 'Make It'), getting all shitty with the cooks from the new job, discovering Scorpian bowls, and how they sometimes come, as they did that night, in groups of six. And who doesn't wish they could forget the end of that night: Me vomiting all over the backyard for an hour, loudly, at 2am, leading, as it happened, to the death of half the new grass my father had planted the year before.
Good Times.
But, now, I get to move out of there, and back into the city. While, get this part, still being employed. And having an insured car of my very own. Things that had been had and lost, back, from dimension x(who sponsor some movie production company or some whit in CA).
The job, wow, wierd shit all around there. Being there yo-yo boy for 7 month's and never complaining about going from 10 hours to 30, has paid off.
The day cook, someone with years of tenure(someone I had worked with at my last job as well), suddenely left the country. So three weeks ago, the head chef(someone who gave a certain chemically inclined person two chances they didn't deserve) called me up to tell me I now had that mans shifts, responsibilities, while not losing my other ones.
A reasonably steady and assured schedule lead to paychecks that, in tandem, are helping me to get of that funk I was in. Leave the funk to black guys with rythm, like that one with the hats who sings for Jamiriqui.
My writing evolves as well, and hopefully, in my dreams, is improving past standard TP.
Shit, I did nothing but gush and be optimistic in this update. I hope that the cessation of the depression doesn't leave me no inspiration for my drawing or writing...
Isn't that the cliche? The ones with the deepest messege, and, apparently, acclaim, or the loners who are drawing on their anti-social, friendless, self-pity and loathing lives of solitude for their arts inspiration and meaning, half remembering being victimized by "someone", though never specifying, who just happen to get rocord deals or wall exhibits in NYC.
Ok, that kills about 12 of my own excuses and personalities... shit...
Being able to write without the self-imposed compulsion towards some form of escapism, without feelings of loss or pain needing to find outward expression and commiseration, could well be the test that even one so self-crytical as myself wont be able to balk, should my stuff not start to suck now that I am enjoying things again....
Hmm...something to think on...or... something to deny and incorporate Wesley Snipes, the Harlem Globe Trotters, the game Shoots 'N Ladders, while at the same time finding a way to twist it all to make me look like a hero...
6:58 p.m. - November 21, 2003
11:55 p.m. - November 15, 2003
8:23 p.m. - November 15, 2003
3:38 a.m. - November 10, 2003
7:46 a.m. - October 27, 2003
