Monday at last....

I recently finished reading the novel Rendezvous With Rama by Arthur C. Clarke.  I vividly recall being in Barnes and Boble Booksellers and perusing the Science Fiction/Fantasy section for a good read.  I happened upon Mr. Clarke – an author whom I’d never tried before – and remembered that he authored 2001: A Space Odyssey.  The adaptation of 2001 is one of my favorite movies of all time (this could be said about several of Stanley Kubrick movies) and is one that I watch no less than 27 times on a daily basis.  I spotted this Rama book amongst the rows of his work and with a check via the handy Iphone 4 I found that this was quite a well respected science fiction tome.  I knew that I was at a crossroads of life and that everything that happened to me in the future would be in some way determined by whether or not I bought this book.  I stood there sweating and pontificating for what seemed like hours but was actually days.  Sweat, urine and excrement stained my clothes but I finally worked up enough courage to walk to the front of the store and lay down moist Federal Reserve notes on the counter top until the purchase price had been satisfied.  I was so swept up with emotion that when the lovely blonde woman asked if I were a Barnes and Noble member I said no without hesitation, realizing several grim hours later that this was a mistake and I had just lost an opportunity to save 10% on my book purchase.  10% that I would never see again except in my tortuous nightmares. 

I allow myself to purchase 1 blu-ray from the Criterion Collection a month.  I believe my next buy will be Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence.  I have salivated over it countless times when seeing it at Hastings (the entertainment superstore).  I’d like to think that I will purchase it on a Wednesday evening or a Thursday afternoon that I may watch it on a Thursday evening or a Friday evening at the latest.  Before watching it I will listen to David Bowie’s Berlin Trilogy (which consists of Low, “Heroes” and Lodger) consecutively with average quality Sony headphones and then weep uncontrollably for roughly 87 minutes as I realize once more that I will never in my life create something as remarkable, artistic or groundbreaking as those albums.  I will implore the heavens, chew on tin foil, beat my chest like a silverback gorilla, slam my face repeatedly into the wall adjacent to my terrace and scream nonsensical Lovecraftian words before finally resigning myself once more to my everlasting inadequacy.  Then I will prepare a bowl of Kraft macaroni and cheese and pour myself a glass of Treetop Apple Juice and watch Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence.  Even if I don’t like the movie I will convince myself that I do because Criterion blu rays are very expensive.  The mind is a powerful tool.  Speaking of David Bowie I must express eternal gratitude for his song Everyone Says “Hi” from the album Heathen.  This song is a blanket I can wrap around myself to provide warmth and comfort every time I am feeling down (which is often since I am a failure in almost every respect).  This song has the power to move me to tears and I feel is one I will carry with me until the end. 

I’ve recently developed an incredibly strong urge to purchase a Donald Duck and/or Uncle Scrooge reprint compilation book from Fantagraphics.  These are of course the books reprinting Carl Barks’ work on the series.  This is simply beautiful work and my collection feels empty and lifeless due to the woeful underrepresentation of this man’s rich legacy. 

I remember that not too long ago I was somewhere and very drunk.  I had poured gallons of tequila and wine down my throat and I was stumbling around trying to find the right words to express the thesis of my discontent.  I’ve longed to be one of those great individuals who can function perfectly even while completely hammered but it seems that is not in the cards for me.  Still, as I became progressively more wasted over the course of that evening I kept examining my surroundings, soaking in all the rouge and slicked back hair and exposed skin and bleached smiles.  I was utterly puzzled as to how no one could see that I was completely miserable.  Does no one realize that I am forced chug hard liquor in order to feel comfortable and at peace with all the plasticity and lack of beauty surrounding me.  How can they not see the despair in my eyes or feel the misery radiating off my body?  How can we be so content with our unremarkable mediocre existences?  Does no one see how they’ve thrown their lives away in the interest of a cheap spurt or a few extra dollars?  I am no better of course; in fact I am probably worse.  Yet I am unable to turn a blind eye.  A far greater man than me once said “the blind have been blessed with security” and I am only just beginning to realize how correct he was. 

I do not know who invented the high heel shoe but I think I will do some research into this.  Whoever this/these individual/s was/were, I can only label him/her/them a genius and in my brain I thank them millions of times a day for their contributions to society and to my almost otherwise completely empty life.  Yet this is only half of the recipe.  And the other half is simply too exquisite for me to mention right now.

 I chew two packs of gum a day and as I reflect upon what has made my life worth living I only begin to chew faster.  When it comes to gum, I always stick with wintery mint flavors.  The fruit flavors are nothing short of an abomination and every time I see fruit flavor gum I wish I had a dagger holstered to my thigh so I could use it to slice off my face and mail in to the sick, depraved and desensitized monsters who invented such a foul thing. 

When I was a child all I ever wanted to do with my life was to drive a backhoe.  The backhoe was my first love.  Where do our dreams go?   Neil Gaiman has a new book coming out in a few weeks.  I will buy this book and then I will read it.  Maybe I’ll even eat some of the pages if I’m feeling puckish.  Not long ago I asked someone how they broke their pinky.  She responded by telling me she broke it in a Mother’s Day tetherball tournament.  I was at a loss for words.