Marc
A Day in the Life of a Deranged, yet Totally Sober Young Man, Spent Mostly Alone in the Bedroom, although He Did Make It Out to a Pub/Restaurant For Lunch Not That Long Before This Piece Was Written:
I woke up at noon, which felt more like eleven, because we lost an hour last night, and consequently, lost said amount of sleep in the process. Nothing special. I fell asleep on the couch last night, stone sober, not having let one drop of alcohol pass through my lips during the course of the evening, with High Fidelity playing on the television, and a friend asleep on the couch less than five feet away. I woke up somewhere around four and five -- it was hard to tell with the time change.
The morning started off slow. I sat down almost immediately at my computer and wrote a one act play about my day yesterday. It was approximately twenty five lines in length, filled mostly with dialogue and stage directions -- which I guess is what most plays are filled with. Once I realized Blogger wasn't working, I tried to save the play to my hard drive for later use, but was thwarted by my taskbar menu, which froze, thus negating my efforts, and forcing me to do a reboot. My play, sadly, was lost in the turmoil.
I then proceeded to go back to bed, with a copy of Lester Bangs' Psychotic Reactions and Carberator Dung in hand, where I read the introduction, and first two pieces, which were more than mildly entertaining, and fabulously well-written. I mean, I've never Count Five before, but there's this strange sensitivity that leaps off the page, into your head, and you can picture what they might have looked like. What self-respecting band, as talented or terrible as they may have been, refuses to go on tour, instead opting to finish college? Incredible. I'll say little about the Van Morrison piece, as I am not much familiar with his works, though I've been meaning to pick up something by him, though lately that's become less and less of an option on my limited budget.
I fell asleep for approximately ten minutes, awakened by the sound of a roommate urinating in the bathroom across the hall. It was my own fault. That's what happens when you don't close your door.
I was then contacted for an outing which I had to regretfully decline, citing, once again, the low monetary situation. But, I couldn't refuse on invitation number two, this one being for the sole purpose of consumption. I was picked up, and shuffled quickly to a place of ill repute, where we were served carbonated drinks, and dead animals, and it tasted fabulous, and I pondered, during the course of the meal, the plausibility of souls existing in inanimate objects. I came to the conclusion that they don't, because there isn't such a thing as a soul, but, no matter, for my purposes I will pretend, for the duration of the day, that they do, and address these objects accordingly. I had a pleasant conversation with the window about a crack I noticed, and asked it if it was okay. I thanked the ketchup for finally giving up the farm and secreting some much needed tomato paste for the burger. There is life all around me today.
Albums of the day (so far):
Josh Rouse -- Under the Cold Blue Stars
Marvin Gaye -- What's Going On?
Zero Zero -- Am Gold and Sounds of the AM remix ep
Sparta -- Austere
Iggy Pop and the Stooges -- Raw Power
A Day in the Life of a Deranged, yet Totally Sober Young Man, Spent Mostly Alone in the Bedroom, although He Did Make It Out to a Pub/Restaurant For Lunch Not That Long Before This Piece Was Written:
I woke up at noon, which felt more like eleven, because we lost an hour last night, and consequently, lost said amount of sleep in the process. Nothing special. I fell asleep on the couch last night, stone sober, not having let one drop of alcohol pass through my lips during the course of the evening, with High Fidelity playing on the television, and a friend asleep on the couch less than five feet away. I woke up somewhere around four and five -- it was hard to tell with the time change.
The morning started off slow. I sat down almost immediately at my computer and wrote a one act play about my day yesterday. It was approximately twenty five lines in length, filled mostly with dialogue and stage directions -- which I guess is what most plays are filled with. Once I realized Blogger wasn't working, I tried to save the play to my hard drive for later use, but was thwarted by my taskbar menu, which froze, thus negating my efforts, and forcing me to do a reboot. My play, sadly, was lost in the turmoil.
I then proceeded to go back to bed, with a copy of Lester Bangs' Psychotic Reactions and Carberator Dung in hand, where I read the introduction, and first two pieces, which were more than mildly entertaining, and fabulously well-written. I mean, I've never Count Five before, but there's this strange sensitivity that leaps off the page, into your head, and you can picture what they might have looked like. What self-respecting band, as talented or terrible as they may have been, refuses to go on tour, instead opting to finish college? Incredible. I'll say little about the Van Morrison piece, as I am not much familiar with his works, though I've been meaning to pick up something by him, though lately that's become less and less of an option on my limited budget.
I fell asleep for approximately ten minutes, awakened by the sound of a roommate urinating in the bathroom across the hall. It was my own fault. That's what happens when you don't close your door.
I was then contacted for an outing which I had to regretfully decline, citing, once again, the low monetary situation. But, I couldn't refuse on invitation number two, this one being for the sole purpose of consumption. I was picked up, and shuffled quickly to a place of ill repute, where we were served carbonated drinks, and dead animals, and it tasted fabulous, and I pondered, during the course of the meal, the plausibility of souls existing in inanimate objects. I came to the conclusion that they don't, because there isn't such a thing as a soul, but, no matter, for my purposes I will pretend, for the duration of the day, that they do, and address these objects accordingly. I had a pleasant conversation with the window about a crack I noticed, and asked it if it was okay. I thanked the ketchup for finally giving up the farm and secreting some much needed tomato paste for the burger. There is life all around me today.
Albums of the day (so far):
Josh Rouse -- Under the Cold Blue Stars
Marvin Gaye -- What's Going On?
Zero Zero -- Am Gold and Sounds of the AM remix ep
Sparta -- Austere
Iggy Pop and the Stooges -- Raw Power
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