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Sep. 15th, 2003 03:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clayhornikI'm giving myself sixty minutes to write, either in the journal, or SOMETHING. Then I'm going to lunch. I've only written about a page in the last week or so, and that was just in my journal. I just lack the... umph. Maybe I can find it in the coming storm (Isabella... already stocked up on goodies to survive, including a novelization of the fun adventure The Lost Kingdom, a retelling of the Monkey King legends). I'd love to blame it on... anything really, like the fact that i shaved off my beard, but really, like all other choices i've made, it all boils down to personal responsibility.
Right now the clock is ticking, the meter, actually. I have a friend who works for the city, and he gave me one of those old clockwork parking meters when the city replaced them with the elcetronic kind...
Four pages. 1100 words. Now I can eat lunch.
Jeebus Christmas. Johnny Cash, John Ritter and Warren Zevon. In one week. Shit.
--
from last week- because I was too bloody... lazy or apathetic or whatever:
9 am.
I haven't written a word in a while now; either here in my journal or in any of the various "projects" I try to work on. Not sure why. Right now, I'm working on about a half hour's sleep in the last 24. Downstairs neighbour has a drip- it's coming from my shower apparently. Had to tidy the apt for the plumber's visit today. Snoozed while the pot of coffee was brewing at 6:50ish. Woke up to the aroma of freshly brewed Starbuck's Kenyan and the news on NPR that Warren Zevon has died.
Things have been sort of wacky for the last week. A co-worker of mine has developed as stallker. Fellow told us how he'd stalked someone before, and then proceded to do the same to co-worker (henceforth referred to as A.)
Flowers, gifts, puppydog faces. Sad really. A. has swiftly become alarmed because of the attention, because stalker boy's (SB) shift of attentions went from object of affection one to OoA two in less than a week. Fortunately, he doesn't know where A. lives. Unfortunately, SB knows where I live. Isn't that lovely.
The last three days have been wonderful- even, cool temperatures, slightly cloudy. I actually spent some time outside, miraculously having saturday and sunday off.
I weighed myself a couple of times this weekend, 174 and 172, respectively. Not bad, except for maybe the fact that I've really only eaten 2.5 meals in the last three days. So far, caffine and nicotine seem to be holding me on pretty well. We'll see at at any rate. Check back again at 5pm and see.
Actually, there's this feeling of disconnectedness I've had; maybe my foray into alterstates will help a little- minimum food, sleep, dispropotionate chemical intake...
I'm using an altoids tin as an ashtray while I'm sitting outside of a coffee shop here in Norfolk. Not sure I'm going to publish this in my LJ without some great revisions. It's filled with the annoying minutia that most critics of LJ's gripe about. A wind's kicked up; the lamp post accross the street is swaying, vibrating slightly. A police car has past by twice. Or maye it's two different cars. Not sure of everything right now, I *thought* I saw a crease on my face this morning, but it was gone when I checked again- it bothered me because of the asymmerty of it, under my right eye. People's faces wrikle pretty evenly on both sides, frown lines, laugh lines, crows feet. This wasn't like any of them. Just a well defined crease. But it's gone.
I've become more aware of my face now that I can see all of it now- there was a storm last Wednesday that knocked out the lights, so there I was in the dark for two and a half hours. So I did the only thing I could think of- I shaved. My Green Arrow-esque facial hair is all gone, now I see a stranger looking at me from the mirror.
I recently remembered a hepatitis scare I had a few years ago. There'd been an outbreak at some local Taco Bells, and being a poor colllege student at the time, that's where I'd eat. My hand looked jaundiced and I over re-acted. I've got a worst case scenario imagination. It turned out to be a leaky hi-lighter.
My life is swiftly turning into a Douglas Coupland novel. There are, I suppose, worse worlds to inhabit.
Wacky wanna-be writer, with his hipper than hip co-worker A. and her wacky ex-con stalker.
Hopefully I can find a picture of what the latest coutour the con's are wearing at the Norfolk Jail- because, really, it's beyond beleif: Stripes. They're wearing prison stripes. It's so... 1930's. Next thing you know, work detail will consist of breaking up rocks. It just occurred to me- is it really a good idea to give criminals sledge hammers and pic axes? Do the still do that? Did they ever, or is it just some sort of cultural archetype? Norfolk jail switches to stripes
Right now the clock is ticking, the meter, actually. I have a friend who works for the city, and he gave me one of those old clockwork parking meters when the city replaced them with the elcetronic kind...
Four pages. 1100 words. Now I can eat lunch.
Jeebus Christmas. Johnny Cash, John Ritter and Warren Zevon. In one week. Shit.
--
from last week- because I was too bloody... lazy or apathetic or whatever:
9 am.
I haven't written a word in a while now; either here in my journal or in any of the various "projects" I try to work on. Not sure why. Right now, I'm working on about a half hour's sleep in the last 24. Downstairs neighbour has a drip- it's coming from my shower apparently. Had to tidy the apt for the plumber's visit today. Snoozed while the pot of coffee was brewing at 6:50ish. Woke up to the aroma of freshly brewed Starbuck's Kenyan and the news on NPR that Warren Zevon has died.
Things have been sort of wacky for the last week. A co-worker of mine has developed as stallker. Fellow told us how he'd stalked someone before, and then proceded to do the same to co-worker (henceforth referred to as A.)
Flowers, gifts, puppydog faces. Sad really. A. has swiftly become alarmed because of the attention, because stalker boy's (SB) shift of attentions went from object of affection one to OoA two in less than a week. Fortunately, he doesn't know where A. lives. Unfortunately, SB knows where I live. Isn't that lovely.
The last three days have been wonderful- even, cool temperatures, slightly cloudy. I actually spent some time outside, miraculously having saturday and sunday off.
I weighed myself a couple of times this weekend, 174 and 172, respectively. Not bad, except for maybe the fact that I've really only eaten 2.5 meals in the last three days. So far, caffine and nicotine seem to be holding me on pretty well. We'll see at at any rate. Check back again at 5pm and see.
Actually, there's this feeling of disconnectedness I've had; maybe my foray into alterstates will help a little- minimum food, sleep, dispropotionate chemical intake...
I'm using an altoids tin as an ashtray while I'm sitting outside of a coffee shop here in Norfolk. Not sure I'm going to publish this in my LJ without some great revisions. It's filled with the annoying minutia that most critics of LJ's gripe about. A wind's kicked up; the lamp post accross the street is swaying, vibrating slightly. A police car has past by twice. Or maye it's two different cars. Not sure of everything right now, I *thought* I saw a crease on my face this morning, but it was gone when I checked again- it bothered me because of the asymmerty of it, under my right eye. People's faces wrikle pretty evenly on both sides, frown lines, laugh lines, crows feet. This wasn't like any of them. Just a well defined crease. But it's gone.
I've become more aware of my face now that I can see all of it now- there was a storm last Wednesday that knocked out the lights, so there I was in the dark for two and a half hours. So I did the only thing I could think of- I shaved. My Green Arrow-esque facial hair is all gone, now I see a stranger looking at me from the mirror.
I recently remembered a hepatitis scare I had a few years ago. There'd been an outbreak at some local Taco Bells, and being a poor colllege student at the time, that's where I'd eat. My hand looked jaundiced and I over re-acted. I've got a worst case scenario imagination. It turned out to be a leaky hi-lighter.
My life is swiftly turning into a Douglas Coupland novel. There are, I suppose, worse worlds to inhabit.
Wacky wanna-be writer, with his hipper than hip co-worker A. and her wacky ex-con stalker.
Hopefully I can find a picture of what the latest coutour the con's are wearing at the Norfolk Jail- because, really, it's beyond beleif: Stripes. They're wearing prison stripes. It's so... 1930's. Next thing you know, work detail will consist of breaking up rocks. It just occurred to me- is it really a good idea to give criminals sledge hammers and pic axes? Do the still do that? Did they ever, or is it just some sort of cultural archetype? Norfolk jail switches to stripes
