Category: general

I just made some pizza out of the box, and it’s not bad. It’s a pain in the ass to make, with the dough and all that shit, but some AC/DC in the player helped that. (_High Voltage_, required listening for everyone, especially my neighbors.) I am not supposed to eat pizza, but when I make my own, I know it won’t have that much fat or grease, and it doesn’t bother my stomach. Most other pizza really kills me, except feta cheese pizzas, and when we get that at work, it usually has mushrooms and other toppings I don’t like. Under controlled circumstances, I love pizza.

I got into a huge pizza discussion with Marie about pizza tonight. She’s from NYC and every pizza place there is “real” pizza and incredible. She’s never even been to a Pizza Hut. I guess that’s kindof cool, but I’d hate to go from NY to a place like Goshen, IN where Pizza Hut is a delicacy. I’d rather do the other way around like me; even the shittiest fast food seafood at Ivar’s in Seattle is probably better than the top of the line stuff in Indiana. All pizza discussions boil down to this: I miss Garcia’s in Bloomington. I still have a Garcia’s plastic cup on my computer table, holding my pens and pencils and telling me about the Monster Slice. (“Great 1/2 Pound Slices Under 2 Bucks!”) Although Garcia’s had good pizza with a unique taste, I really miss the atmosphere. I loved it on the Fridays when I had only a morning class, when I’d skip over there for a slice and drink, sit around with a friend, play their Tetris machine (which had a high score of like 19 trillion) and just hang out. They were the absolute closest place to campus that served beer (I went to an allegedly dry campus. As dry as a fucking brewery.) and that meant some great drinking experiences there. I know everyone reading this will think I’m insane for fawning over eating a greasy, undercooked, overpriced piece of pizza and tipping back a $2.50 bottle of Bud Lite, but man, those were the fucking days.

I don’t know if I should talk about it in public, but I’ve decided to go back to Summer Rain. I’ve started reading the drafts – I need to get the story in my head before I can start writing. I figure the second book – chapters 16-30, will require about 35,000 words worth of new material and lots of editing. I probably can’t finish that before Marie gets here (9/3) but maybe before her next visit.

Oh yeah, Marie bought tickets to visit for the first week of October. I’m not taking off of work though – she’ll be spending the day hanging out here, reading some of my non-internet writing and working on her own stuff. And I’m going to buy tickets Friday to go there for the first week of November. Does all of this sound crazy? If you think I’m sane, you must be a new reader.

Listening to Santana, greatest hits. It gathers dust most of the time, but I guess I’m in a Santana mood. Stop me before I break out the Cheech and Chong. Actually, Santana is a great Hendrix gateway drug, so maybe I’ll have Band of Gypsies blaring away by this time tomorrow (if not later tonight.)

I’m reading a book about the Zodiac killer. (It’s the Grayspoon? Graystein? book, the most popular one.) I hope this doesn’t lead me down the true crime road again, because I have a ton of books I bought but didn’t read back when I thought me and Larry would write a book about the Unabomber. I have a brand new, unopened copy of Helter Skelter. I read it back in high school, but it would be fun to read it again now that I have a vague knowledge of west coast geography.

Shit, it’s 11:30 and I’m just finishing supper. Time to get some real work done.

Listening to Rotting Christ, which started as a really underground band that Ray and I used as the example of the most extreme end of the sickness spectrum. Now they’re on Century Media and have the most incredible sound of a death metal band ever. A lot of variety, a lot of depth, excellent production, just great stuff. I thought the metal scene was dead and rotting, but I just got Ray’s latest issue of Metal Curse, and it comes with a sampler CD from Century Media, which is totally filled with mind-blowing new metal from Tiamat, Sentenced, Moonspell, Rotting Christ, Lacuna Coil and more. It’s so great – I thought all black/death bands were stuck in this eviler-than-though pissing contest, stagnating away, but this stuff sounds so new, great, and incredible – it’s like when it was 1992 and I was DJing and listening to all of this new and incredible music. It’s time for me to start spending on new discs.

I went to a journal gathering today to meet a few locals and see Scott, who is down from Vancouver. I’d like to list everyone and link them to their pages, but I’m in the middle of eating dinner, and my bookmarks are at work. But trust me – I met some people, and I’m sure Anita’s page has photos and links and all that jazz – she’s much more self-documented than I am, at least on the web.

Speaking of self-documented, I was working on my biography all night last night. I’m up to the fall of 93, and it’s like 57K words long. I was cleaning it a bit so I could email it off to Marie in NYC. Oh yeah, Marie is the person visiting me next month. I have been thinking about that a lot, and I’m really excited, to put it mildly. I should probably be cleaning and organizing and planning and everthing else. I’d mention more, but I need to play my cards close until she’s here, when I’ll know what’s up with the whole situation.

Jack in the Box is great. I wish I could rent a tape with all of their commercials. That would rule. It’s too bad the food killed a bunch of people. Maybe that’s why I like it so much.

Okay, speaking of clean… I have dishes left over from the Truman administration in my sink. More later.

It’s been a while – sorry about that. Lots of things going on here, and the heat’s been back for a bit.

I mentioned my mystery visitor from NYC, and I guess I can give the next piece of the puzzle. It’s a she, and I’m afraid that if I give it all away, I’ll jinx thing and then I’ll drown in the mistake forever, sort of like New Coke or the IBM PC Jr. So all I can tell you until labor day is that 1) It’s a female, 2) I think she’s cool 3) I’ve been spending a lot of my time communicating with her by sending back and forth huge pieces of writing – parts of short stories and large manifestos. So it’s been a worthwhile use of my time.

Oh yeah, the Escort is gone. I got out of it for only $620, even though the brakes were shot and making noise when I drove it on the lot. My insurance bill went down dramatically, and I had a few bucks left, since I saved about a grand for the whole ordeal. I’m back to the VW full time now, and it’s a bit of work driving a stickshift today, especially one with such strange and quirky habits as this little car, but I’m doing fine. And getting better gas mileage.

I had my first flash of Escort nostalgia today – I was driving alongside a City of Seattle Escort, which is just like my old one except for the big logo on the door. I didn’t think about leaving behind the Escort until I saw another one. I guess the little thing had a good run, and all of my memories of Seattle are tied to that one little car. Man – what the fuck’s going to happen when I move to a new place? I’ll really miss this studio.

Nothing else. A bunch of new CDs. Metal Curse #11 is out. Motorhead rules. Catch you later.

Seattle is back. It’s 68, cloudy, and I managed to sleep without drinking alcohol last night. I even had to turn off the ceiling fan and close a window, it got so cold last night. I’m very happy – I feel like a changed man. Maybe I’ll get some writing done tonight.

My New York visitor is going to be here over Labor Day weekend, and I’m excited about that. Time to throw out the beer bottles, stock the bar, and do some serious cleaning…

The other night, I thought of the perfect plot for an action-adventure movie. I don’t know why, it just appeared in my head while drinking a beer and waiting for sleep. I’m thinking I subliminally ripped it off from some Van Damme movie or something, but I’m not sure – maybe it’s an amalgm of a bunch of movies. If I had any time whatsoever, I’d write a treatment, or even a screenplay, and then send it to a bunch of people. But I guess I have better things to do with my time.

I’ve been listening to the new Garbage album for some reason – I usually don’t listen to pop albums, but I got a copy from a friend of mine, and I actually like it in some weird way. I could imagine listening to it while doing 90 in a cnnvertible with the top down – it has a lot of energy to it, and sounds fresh. Maybe I should dump this to an MD and listen to it more.

I’m really not that nervous about the car now, but brief explosions of anxiety hit me when I really sit and think about it. I’ll miss that car, but not the dealership. My loyal zine readers keep asking me if I will still put “No thanks to Evergreen Ford in Issaquah” in the back of every issue of Air in the Paragraph Line, like I did with 1-9, or if I’ll find a new cause to berate. That’s a good question, and I guess you’ll have to buy a copy of #10 to find the answer.

I’m bored. I now have a NY subway map and a bartender’s guide, which should keep be busy for months.

The last few days have been a blur of record temperatures and incredible heat in my apartment. I got home from work last night and fell asleep with my jeans and shoes on. When I woke, I felt really sick, like I was going to pass out. This was with the windows open, and all of the fans running at full blast, so lound that I couldn’t hear. The apartment still felt like standing next to a kiln. I don’t remember it being this bad when I worked in a copper refinery in the worst of the Indiana summers.

My beer-before-bedtime solution to sleep is still working, but I think I’ve completely pumped up my alcohol tolerance, and I might have to start drinking more if this heat wave continues. Last night, I spent my last $8 on a 6-pack of Molson and a Chicken McNugget meal.

The great car exchange takes place Friday. I dropped off the Escort and took the Rabbit last night because the Escort’s brakes are starting to squeal, and I don’t want to make it worse. I hope that I can get that one past Ford without paying extra. I’ve got a bonus coming on Friday, and it should be decent, so it doesn’t matter either way. But if I just pay them the $620 or so in body damage and then get cut loose, that means a lot of screwing-around funds for the next few weeks.

It’s weird to be back driving the Rabbit again. I hate not having AC, but the sunroof is very awesome for weather like this. I’m not used to driving a stick, and the hills are a problem. Also, I have trouble determining distances and blind spots and all of that, but I’m guessing that after a weekend of blasting around Seattle, that stuff will pass.

I read somewhere that over 3 million copies of Dr.DOS have been sold in the last 18 months. Isn’t that weird?

I may have a visitor from NYC in the future. I may be going to Indiana again for Halloween. Strange things are afoot at the Circle K.

It’s motherfucking hot in Seattle. Maybe I’m just whining, but you should try hanging out in my apartment for a few hours. Even with all of the fans on full blast and the windows open, it must be 90 in there, and the mercury doesn’t drop much at night. I know there are some of you that think “I’m a tough guy – 100 degree heat doesn’t bother ME.” That’s because you’re brain damaged. I can’t do anything but sit in bed when it’s this hot out, and with the jet-engine roar of my fans, I can barely hear the sound of the stereo or TV. There’s no use in trying to read any new books or write anything. I’m glad I discovered that if I drink a beer right before bed, I fall asleep a lot faster. I’m not glad that I’m down to my last beer, and I’m pretty much broke until Friday.

Yes, I’m counting the days until Friday, when the Escort goes away. I have $400 of the $620 I need to pay Ford, and payday plus bonus-day is Friday, so I should be home free. I am down to my last $11, which I’ll probably spend on Sprite, Gatorade, and stuff for lunch this week. I should make it. And after that, I’ll have cash every month – enough to save for weird trips around thw world and still have enough to go to the CD store and buy everything in sight.

I keep thinking about where I’ll travel next. I think another default trip back to Indiana is in order, except this time I’ll try to hook up with Michael in Cleveland and take some better pictures of Bloomington. I also want to take a trip to NYC, and one to LA. This huge Amsterdam trek is still on the drawing board, but I’m not sure when that will happen or how I will pay for it. I’m thinking of keeping very detailed journals on my next couple of trips, and then writing a book about them. It would be about the tree or four places I visited, which would all be completely different, but it would be more about me and the time I spent on the road. It wouldn’t be like On the Road – more like Kurt Brecht’s book The 30-day Diarrea Diet Plan, which is a cool book about his voyage into Mexico on no money.

Nothing else. It’s nice in my office though. Maybe I should move in here.

I’m thinking of sinking an insane amount of money into some new stereo hardware. I really want a pair of Magnepan speakers, and I really want a Crown amp. I don’t think panel speakers will sound too good with Entombed, but they’d sound great with this new Pat Metheny CD, or some Shadowfax or something. So I’m coming up with a list of all-purpose test CDs I could use while auditioning new gear. They all have to be familiar, but exhibit some weird quality I’d need to test. I think the list is something like this:

• Motorhead – 1916
• Chick Corea Electric Band – Under the Mask
• Pat Metheny Group – Imaginary Day
• Peter Gabriel – Us
• Mariah Carey – Mariah Carey
• Death is Just the Beginning II comp.
• Dismember – Indecent and Obscene
• Brahms – Piano Concertos (complete) (Philips)
• Frank Zappa – Civilization Phaze Three
• Frank Zappa – The Yellow Shark
• Frank Zappa – One Size Fits All (Au20)
• Joe Satriani – Crystal Planet
• Shadowfax – Folksongs for a Nuclear Village
• the digital domain test disc
• the Holophonics test disc

I think with those CDs, I could find new speakers that didn’t suck, or at least piss off the sales clerks.

It’s a beautiful day out, I’ve got a twenty in my pocket – what the fuck am I doing writing on here?

If you still can’t figure out yesterday’s entry, it’s from the Conan O’Brien show.

There are several reasons why I haven’t been writing. First is the heat – at night it gets up to about 170 degrees in my apartment, and I want to do nothing but watch TV. I’ve begun tipping back a beer or two before bed, because there’s no other way I can fall asleep with this heat. I have a ceiling fan and a box fan – maybe I need more fans.

Also, my connection at work has been messed up. It slows down and times out way too much. It’s become too much a pain in the ass to write during lunch, so I stopped.

So that means no writing on the book. A few people are reviewing the first nundred pieces from Rumored to Exist, and I’m getting back some helpful feedback. It makes me want to write more, but the heat… the heat…

I’m getting a lot of conflicting information about what to do with my dating life. It was so much easier when I could just ask a girl in my Spanish class for help with my homework, buy a pizza, make up some stories, and bam. Now I have to explain a huge manifesto about what I want to do with my life when I meet someone new. Maybe I should stay single for a while longer.

I talked to Tom G. today, an old friend from my neighborhood. I guess he wasn’t a friend for a while – in 1989, my then-girlfriend took off with him, and they eventually got married, had two kids, then divorced. But I guess the statute of limitations on that stuff has run out, and it was good to talk to him again. It wasn’t much of an “old times” type of discussion, but more of a “what’s been going on” thing. It’s weird how much can change in 8 or 9 years.

I’ve gotta split – I actually have plans that don’t involve TV or writing!

I gave up. I fell off the wagon. I relapsed. I once again have cable TV. And I’m watching way too much of it.

I decided one night that I wanted to watch the Conan O’Brien show again. He’s really funny, and I like his guests and his jokes with Andy and Max, and it used to give my life a certain amount of regularity. So did the Seinfeld reruns at 7:30, but they always preempt those with the fucking Mariners games. So the other night, I got out the wire strippers and fixed my TV cable, and there it was.

Conan was funny, and I watched some other pseudo-educational things, like a show on the Berlin Airlift, and this giant Noam Chomsky thing on PBS. But I find myself wandering the stations, which is bad. Oh well, I need some new ideas for the book, and I can’t think of any while hermetically sealed in my apartment.

It’s Friday, but it feels like Tuesday. I hope this will be a breakthrough weekend for the writing – I have been hovering right below 40,000 words on this project, and I’d really like to break through and officially be in the 40s. Yesterday, it got so nice out that there was an emergency beer and ice cream meeting on the patio. It was HOT out there – it felt good to be drinking cold Corona while standing around on the concrete and looking at Lake Union. Days like that make me wish I had a boat moored across the street, so I could hop in and hit the water.

I’m in the final stretch of this money ordeal, before the car is gone. It looks like I’m going to make it with a few bucks to spare, but I’m waiting for Ford to pull the old switcheroo somehow, and ask me for more cash. So that means I’m mostly broke for the next two weeks, but then I’ll be back to dropping bills in the CD store and buying many books I’ll probably never read.

I’m bored now. Time to do a bunch of stupid web searches.

I got paid a day early and didn’t know it. It’s raining. I think the I-5 construction is done. I gave a panhandler 75 cents. My apartment smells like something died in the pile of unwashed dishes. I’m drying some jeans for the 4th time and I hope I remember to take them out and fold them.

I got a wedding invitation from an ex-girlfriend. Not really an ex, we went out a couple of times and it disintegrated before the labels were established. But I liked her a lot in early 1993. I had a dream about her the other night. I’m not mad or upset that she’s getting married, but it’s another reminder that I’m drifting. And I wish I had a better alibi for being single and childless. I wish I was Marilyn Manson, so when people would ask me why I’m not married, I could say “Where the hell have you been? Turn on your fucking TV.”

At least I got an invitation. I’d like to make a list here of all of the people who are/were allegedly close to me who didn’t invite me to their weddings.

I think I’m taking a long weekend in Vancouver BC in the near future. I don’t even know what I would do there, but I just want to go. I don’t know anyone there, except for maybe thirdhand connections or vague stuff like that. Now I know a couple of people in LA, but I can’t easily drive there, so the investment is higher.

I really need to do my dishes and find out of something did die in the sink, before it drives me nuts.