Letter Never Sent

Go to shows. Go to libraries. Lend and borrow books, download them, buy them second hand. Get your clothes second hand, make them, or borrow those too. Buy second hand CD’s, borrow them from friends and burn them, make mix CD’s and tapes because it’s fun and people like to get them. Download music. Make your own music. Sing to yourself. Make your own greeting cards, they’re better that way. Eat at home sometimes because it’s cheaper. Drink more water. Make iced tea and koolaid. Reuse things. Rent a movie and get a group together to watch it. Lend and borrow your movies instead of amassing your own private collections. Stop wasting your money for crap you’ll just have to move or discard later. Share everything you can. Stop paying fifty dollars for shitty video games. Share those too. There are better things to do with your money. It’s not your job to pay for someone else’s rockstar lifestyle.

There are few things sweeter than the satisfaction of a job well done. After at least two weeks of bugging my friend, Phillip, to help me get the additional hard drive working on the modded xbox and having him put me off and procrastinate(much the way I put other people off, I should add in all fairness), I finally got off my own ass and looked up the information and did it myself even despite my preliminary fears that it would be way over my head. Well, it wasn’t. I’m so heady with the pride of my own accomplishment that I’m thinking of replacing my own brakes. Why would I even want to attempt this? A mouthy someone at work told me that brake jobs are the biggest scam around, and that it’s a job that really anyone with half a brain could do for under fifty dollars in parts. I, of course, have half a brain (give or take a few percent) and under fifty dollars.

The last time I had the front and back brakes replaced it cost me nearly $300 and considerable inconvenience. Every time I think about handing over another $300 to someone to fix a car I paid a grand for, the prospect of cashing in on my own sweat equity looks sweeter and sweeter.

There are few things more boring than hearing someone go on and on about their dreams, but here are some things from last night I wanted to document:

• Fighting and running from a large, fast, armored, Gamorian-guard-looking troll who tried to cripple me by throwing his sword like a ninja star at my legs. Some king or other warrior who had a sword very similar to mine except that his was somehow magically or chemically tainted or poisoned.
• I was living in a decaying luxury hotel.
• Parking in a mall parking lot (ostensibly on the run from something) with two cats who kept trying to escape the car requiring me to chase and catch them.

I have added some links to two people I discovered linking to this page, Ex-Lion Tamer and Al Dahlia. You can find that on the left over there. I need to get one of those blogrolling things set up.

Addendum: Apparently, I also forgot Steve, but then I added him too.

I just wanted to ramble on a little before I crawled into this empty bed in this empty room in this empty house. When I am alone like this at night I think about the darkness and the stillness outside and inside. The people in the surrounding houses in the surrounding streets and neighborhoods laid beneath their covers in darkness, rows upon rows, sleeping soundly and still like mummies entombed in their linen wrappings. And here, thoughts are clamorous and seeking, leaking out into the night, washing over everything, past, present, and future.

I wonder if there are other people out there keeping this same vigil. Reluctant to turn off the lights and bury themselves under the sheets until it is time to rise again. Reluctant to give up and let go. Sometimes I wonder if people ever really know each other, or even if you can ever really know yourself. I feel like I’m missing some essential thing that I can sense by the empty space it leaves.

Yesterday was Susan’s birthday. She’s awesome. No, I didn’t forget. I swear. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks I just didn’t do anything about. It’s complicated. I have my reasons. Did I mention I’ve known Susan and Karen since we were ten? Yeah. How do you like them apples? Way back in ninth grade before I became close friends with Karen I had a little crush on Susan. She was smart, cute, and obstinately opinionated. All important qualities in a woman. She also had a smell I found interesting for some reason, normal girl smell with a twist. In our ninth grade english class she sat directly to my right. I remember she always had this hairbrush under her desk where you keep your books. It would just be loaded with hair. I’m not sure why I remember that in particular. I’m glad we’re still friends. That’s a miracle in itself, trust me. Anyway, she’s so cool and passionate and in many ways a lot smarter than me. Happy birthday, Karen and Susan.

There was a star danced, and under that was I born. –William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

After going to bed at the ungodly hour of five a.m. my mom called and woke me up at nine as she was in Austin to see me. I knew she was coming to visit so I really had no excuse. We had a nice leisurely time of it: brunch at Magnolia Cafe where I downed some badly needed coffee, driving around looking for some thing my mom wanted for her air, and shopping at the mall where she bought me some nice towels. Mmmmmm, egyptian cotton. It’s not like I’m a towel freak I just don’t have very many and the ones I have are starting to look a little something the dog sleeps on. The highlight of the day was when I coaxed her into playing Bust-a-move on the X-Box, and she NEVER plays video games.

Here she is looking gorgeous as usual and a little tan:

Today I went swimming again. It is my summer resolution. So far I have done a pretty good job of it. It’s nice to float in the cool water at Barton Springs and to lay on a towel in the sun while people watching. I’m planning on going tomorrow too.

After that I went to see the new Danny Boyle zombie movie, 28 Days Later. It’s about an infectious disease appropriately called ‘Rage’ that turns people into blood vomiting zombies. If any blood or saliva gets into your body you have about 20 seconds until your a goner. I don’t think I could handle having to be one of the last people around on top of having to fight infected zombie people. I often wonder if I would be able to survive something like that or if I would just freak out and run off into the hills until some zombie finds me in a fetal position hiding under something. Not that I would welcome any opportunity for such an experience, it’s just that you often wonder if you are really made of sterner stuff.

One really positive thing about the movie (and damn the reviewer that made me think of this because I can’t claim it solely as my own idea) was the message of how important family is. The interdependence of human beings and how wonderful it is to have someone outside yourself to relate to. Not just that, but when you’re alone in the world and everyone you know has become zombiefied you really appreciate how important other people are. After the move (which thankfully ended happy and hopeful in its own way) I wanted to find someone to hug tightly and thank them for being with and around me as a fellow person.

Once when describing my fear of death to a friend, I was given the insight that a fear of death is often a fear of being alone. I think there is something to that. If I imagine death as a solitary experience it does seem very frightening. But, if I think of it as a thing I share with all other human beings and as an experience within the context of my life and relationships it doesn’t seem so frightening.

Last night I slept 15 hours, from 6:00pm to 9:00am. I’m wondering if I slept so long because I was depressed or if I was depressed from lack of sleep.