Wednesday, October 23, 2002

Stupid things: Britney Spears; fast food; tract housing; SUVs; one-celled amoebas; sexists; racists; homophobes; most popular fiction; all-terrain vehicles; those machines that wrap up diapers into neat, smell free lumps; disposable, land-fill filling diapers; those plastic cup dispenser go cups that package two ounces of snack chips; local television news; most newspapers; careerists; violence; hatred; self-centeredness; the list goes on and on.

So I've got this great story idea about a housewife whose son does an Internet search and discovers this alternate reality, alternate her, that is famous and more beautiful, but childless. And Sylvia I don't want to be a caricature. She's got this son with ADD who requires almost constant attention and is noisy and she's lonely and her teenage daughter is into marijuana and ex-husband cannot pay child support because he's in prison. But somehow there's this alternate reality she can dive into if she wants to, has this choice to. But the payoff is she has to give up the role she finds most important, that of mother. Because her children won't exist in this other fame reality. That's what I'm working on today.

I went to the library yesterday and did some research of a couple magazines. One is called Illinois Steward and features environmental stories from across the state. Problem is all the stories are written by professors and important people associated with the University of Illinois. So that's a bust. And then there is Mother Earth News, with articles about everything from PCB's to extending your garden through winter. Lots of possibilities there. But then I don't know if I want to pursue this journalism thing. I don't have a fervor for seeking out stories that I thought I would. Just being honest here. Or maybe I'm burned out from the 415 or so stories I wrote for Beloit in the past year. My natural curiousity, my greatest gift, remains... We'll see. I printed out many copies of my resume last night and am sending them out today for various administrative assistant positions. Again, we'll see.

I just want a job that doesn't sap my energy or will for other things, such as my creative writing, music and working out. Getting fit and artistic. I feel a creative renaissance coming on and don't want to quell it with some stressed out suit and tie gig again. Tired of the societal approval of that game. Still might try to get a weekly column in the Beloit paper, a chance to prove myself and possibly syndication?!! Too many options. Must focus on something.

Game Three of the Series showed more offensive fireworks by the Angels, but no homers. Just hard liners to all fields. Barry Bonds hit another tape-measure shot. Hot dogger stood there and admired his shot. A great player, but stuck up SOB who has no respect for other players in the league. I was rooting for the Giants, but after seeing that shot, I hope Anaheim wins. Little David Eckstein shows good hustle. Tim Salmon's been in the league a long time. They're all a bunch of scrappers, played small ball, two successful hit and runs in the third inning. That's my brand of baseball. But then the Giants have ex-Cub Shawon Dunston and Jeff Kent and J.T. Snow, all likable and deserving characters. But screw Bonds, admiring his own greatness. Hope he pulls a muscle patting himself on the back. Game Four is tonight, but I may not be there because I want to play open stage at Lungo's Landing. Going to make my auspicious debut back in Loves Park. Three song set includes "Space Oddity,'' Awww. I outlined that yesterday. But also going to possibly throw in an original jam with D-minor, C, G, and A7 chords. We'll see. Chord knowledge grows with practice.

Well, I must get on with my day. Gonna be disciplined and stay off the Internet the rest of the day. Spending too much time surfing and not getting anything done.

Andy J. stopped by two days ago, unannounced, to pick up his CDs. So I go over to his place yesterday, unannounced, after leaving a message on his machine. The guy never answers his phone. Always keeps his ringer off. It's maddening. So when I get there he gets all pissed off at me. What an angry, moody man. I didn't act pissed when he showed up at my place. So I kept my visit very brief and escaped from his crappy world. If he wants to do something with me, he has to call. I'm not calling him again. He's on the outs with me, much like John "Chicago suburb fast pace inconsiderate clod" Panek. Time for me to weed out the negative people in my life. I'll be a lot more forgiving with Andy. He and I have a 17 year history. John was just a college tennis buddy that didn't translate well into regular friend when I discovered how much a schmuck-boy he is. Andy's more like a brother. It's the only reason I tolerate him.

I don't have many friends in this town, but that's okay. Like I said, I need the solitude, even though it goes against the grain of my social nature. A step back from the social life can only feed this creative momentum I have built.

Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes. -- Whitman

Difficulties show men what they are. In case of any difficulty remember that God has pitted you against a rough antagonist that you may be a conqueror, and this cannot be without toil.

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