Lets try and get it right the first time. I wanna talk about how Things have been slow for me the past few weeks. It’s been really nice actually. The last dance is over and the lights are on. I’ve spent a little time watching the American Idol tryouts, which is really the only part of that show I can stand. Once the Hollywood pageantry kicks in and the participants are actually trying, it gets rather dull.

On Wednesday I went out to the haunt for dinner and a couple of beers. It’s nice because the bar tender there has finally started buying me drinks. The last couple times I’ve been in he has taken half the drinks off my tab. My heavy tipping is finally starting to pay off.

I watched Friends & Lovers last night while doing laundry. It basically sucked. There was so much formula involved that any sort of originality it may have had was lost. I was left wholly unsatisfied by the compulsory crazy german, the gratuitous flashing, the cry-me-a-river cat and the cradle storyline. The more I think about it the more it sucked. I don’t know if I laughed once. OK maybe once.

I went out to dinner with my Dad on Tuesday after his meeting. We went to our usual Tommy’s Thai for dinner. He’s worried about some things. At one point he asked me how my love life was. I told him it was nonexistent. He asked me why, aren’t Jami and I talking anymore? I said we were, in fact I just got a nice present from her the other week, but were so far away that my “love life” is nonexistent. He then went on to tell me that I could try out the internet dating thing, or hurry dating. He only wants the best for me. And I love him for that.

There are so many fucking brilliant people out there with so many fucking brilliant ideas. I want my brain cells back. I need to get out more. I need to come up with something. I’m consuming excessively more than I’m creating. It makes me feel unacceptable.

It had been a long time since I had done my dishes. I tackled the project last night but it sucked because the smell was absolutely horrendous. I actually gagged a little at first. Then I lit some incense in the kitchen just to drown out whatever it was that smelt like dogshit in my sink. Well everything is all scrubbed and cleaned and sparkling now but it was awfully trying at first.

One time, when I was living with Oats, there was a stink that was coming from the kitchen. We couldn’t quite place where the smell was coming from. It seemed to be emanating from somewhere near the sink but it would waft and gasp throughout the kitchen making it’s source hard to place. So naturally we thought it must be from the wastebasket we kept under the sink. I immediately took the trash out to the dumpster, despite the fact that the basket was only half full. Sometimes it only takes one foul item to make a completely offensive statement. The next day the stench had returned. After a sniffing session that still resulted in no known source, Oats went about completely cleaning the kitchen. This kept the kitchen area smelling of sterile-sweet citrus 409 for a couple of days. But after that, the malodorous funk was back to haunt us with it’s rancid vapor. We decided that the smell must be emanating from the garbage disposal unit. A couple days later, after running a swimming pool worth of water and soap down the drain, Oats went and bought a new disposal unit. After the unit was installed, we had suspected we were in the clear. Our suspicions were inaccurate and faulty. The odor did not want to leave. Just when Oats was starting to panic that her kitchen was going to be forever unusable, it was discovered that putrid fetor was issuing forth from an African Violet that I had place by the flour and sugar jars. I was humiliated and feeling guilty that I had let my plant cause all of this havoc. I’m not sure why this plant had stunk so violently. Possibly it had some sort of root rot or something. I’ll never be sure. But I do know, from then on I have kept all my African Violets healthy and happy. And when Oats demurely lets a little flatulence slip on by, I’ll thoughtfully let her place full blame on my leafy green friends.

On Saturday I picked up my brother and Pandy and we headed up into the mountains. We reached Copper Mountain at about 11:00 and skied till about 3:30. I was a beautiful, 15 spf, cloudless, electricbluesky day. The snow got a little hard towards the end of the day when everything cooled off but overall it was a great day. We spent most of the day doing cruisers as Pandy has only been skiing around five times but she loves it.

We then headed over the pass deeper into the rockies to Vail. We met my mom at her condo then freshened up and headed into town. Vail was really pretty with all of there xmas lights up yet and it was real nostalgic for me as I used to go up there every year with the family and spend time with my grandparents. It was weird how many absolutely beautiful people there were in that town. It was like hollywood, with more furs coats. There wasn’t an ugly person in the entire place. It sickened and delighted all of us. We ate some mexican and drank margaritas and people watched at Los Amigos (menu).

On Sunday we went skiing on vail mountain. My mom hadn’t been skiing in about 15 years, I hadn’t skied with my brother for probably about 13 years, and I’d never skied with Pandy, so it made for a really enjoyable day. Not to mention it snowed all day long and we got about 6-8 inches of powder to ski in all day. So when my brother and me split off from the girls to go skiing the bowls, we had a blast. Visibility was terrible, however, and we both got frightened a bit when we first entered the backside cause it was whiteout conditions and we were very unfamiliar with the terrain (at one point we almost skied over a cliff). There was no way to gauge distance in the blowing snow so it was hard to if I could see 20 feet in front of me or 80 feet. We ran into some snowboarders who wanted to ski with us for safety reasons. We ran into another group of three skiers and chatted with them when we heard somebody yelling for help somewhere back in the snow beyond sight. Luckily one of the other guys had a radio and was able to call for help. The weather cleared up after about an hour and made for a great powder ski day though. Driving home sucked, however, and I wasn’t back at my apartment till 8:30 on Sunday, exhausted from two days of skiing and a three-hour drive. What a great weekend.

On Friday, before the movie, we went to the (relatively) new cajun place down on colfax (I can’t remember the name of it right now but I’ll erase this and put it in when I find out). The food was pretty good, not spectacular, but decent. For most of the meal, we were the only ones in the entire restaurant which was surprising for a Friday night and it being only a block away from one of the busiest intersections in Denver. I had the gumbo, which was pretty good, but it’ll be the fried crawfish po’boy that I get next time. The coolest part of the place was that there was a secret dance club filled with seedy characters in it hidden on the side of the restaurant. You would never know it’s there from the outside because there was no sign and no windows. Only after you enter the restaurant can you here the music pumping in from the back room. We were in a hurry so we didn’t get to grab a drink there but we did peek in and the whole place looked delightfully suspicious. but I’ll be sure to go back sometime and let you know what it’s all about. I’m very intrigued by it’s fantastic sketchyness. Later, I went to see The Lord Of The Rings: The Return of the King with my brother and his girlfriend. It was as good as I expected and I’m glad I saw it at the theatres. Besides that, there is nothing I want to say about it that hasn’t been said by a million people already. Though, my brother farting, pandy spilling her popcorn, and the lady behind us cussing up a storm did raise the entertainment value.

I was introduced to Charles Bukowski’s writing when I was a sophomore in college. Some hippie from Humbolt County came up to visit a roommate and told me to read him. I’m glad I listened. He is now one of my favorite authors. I fell in love with him almost immediately. That semester my drink, when we went out, was half-and-half whiskey and waters. I found myself going to the bar more, and paying attention to the people who were there. I saw the romance in dark, dingy, rent-by-the-week hotels. I fully realized the allure of the racetrack. I stayed away from the fighting though - I saw no cause to injure myself. I remember I saw a signed copy of his book in the library and schemed out a plan to sneak it past the alarms. However, shortly after I finished the plan and recruited the necessary accomplices, the library flooded and I graduated shortly after that. I still wonder if that book is there.

I’ve read all of his novels but Post Office. This is because I want something to hold onto. Something to read on my death bed. I’ve also read most of his short stories. Over the last few years I’ve been in the slow process of reading his poems. I keep a book of them in the shitter with me and whenever I have to go bust out a few, I open the current book of poems and bust a few of those out too. A while back I just finished The Bone Palace Ballet, a collection of mostly newer poems that were put together posthumously. It was pretty good. Great shitter reading material. And you know what? I think Bukowski would take that as one of his best compliments ever.

It was a nice long weekend. I stared it out by going over to my brothers and watched the 3 Days DVD while waiting for Pandy to come home with her out of town friend and five orders of phad thai and and greeen curry. After eating our huge meals, sucking on baloons and waiting for some friends to show up, we all headed out to the Streets Of London Pub. The night mainly of many drinks, pool with girls named treasure, guys with incredible snatch (the movie) imitations involving my brothers glasses, cherry cigarettes, and one car bomb too many. I spent the rest of the evening over at Soph’s place making balloon animals, an unrecognizable three legged mouse being my specialty.

I ended up sleeping in till the late morning hours and going back over to my brothers to get my cell phone. I never left. I ate a big old bowl of leftovers and almost immediately fell asleep on his futon while a bunch of friends went out to the hippy bar. When they got back, I roused myself up enough to go over to the neighbors to smoke cigarettes and play craps but soon went back to sleep.

The next morning a bunch of us headed out to the old west-denver hash house, the Breakfast King (menu) for chicken fried steak and football. Though most of the time I didn’t watch any football because I was too busy stuffing my face and staring at a woman who looked exactly like Juliette Lewis. And who really gives two shits about the NFL playoffs anyway? I really enjoyed the Breakfast King in that diner sort of way but I’m afraid I’m just not really the greasy spoon type. We went back to my brothers and after a long afternoon nap we watched GI Jane, which was really easy to make fun of but not as bad as I had expected it to be.

I didn’t leave my apartment on Monday and it’s probably a good thing cause I didn’t eat anything but chili all day long.

I’m starting to feel a lot better. My head has become unclogged but my body just seems to be exhausted. Last night I went to the booby bar with a bunch of guys from work. One of them had won a contest that included free cover, two free drinks, a free buffet (that actually included steamed veggies, tator tots, prime rib, tacos (come on, no jokes, it’s too easy), macaroni salad and a bunch of other stuff), and of course boobs. I’ve been to plenty of booby bars in my time. Some good, some umm, well, bad. And the sad/gross factor varies among them all. This one wasn’t too bad, but I just wasn’t in the mood. I had my free beer and some dinner and was home by 7:30. I was just too worn out and didn’t want to deal with it all.

I was supposed to head up to Vail tonight in order to go skiing tomorrow but I was informed that I had fallen behind at a project so I can’t really take the day off. The shits really hitting the fan today but I seem to be taking care of it somehow. It sucks not being able to go skiing but on the other hand it keeps me from spending the $70 for a lift, $50 for a condo, $15 in gas, and $15 in meals. $150 is a lot to pay when I have a pass that allows me free skiing at Winter Park and Copper Mountain. Such is the story of my life. When you get to go look at tits with your work friends you’re not in the mood to look at tits. When you’re in the mood to go skiing on a paid day off of work, you’re denied.

You take the good. You take the bad. You take ‘em both and there you have the facts of life.

It’s pretty much guaranteed I stink to high hell right now. I’ve been sick all weekend, not deathly ill, but enough to make me roll around in sweaty hot flashes while sleeping. And I didn’t shower yesterday. Why shower when you’re not feeling well? Why bathe when it’s known that you won’t be leaving the sofa, let alone the apartment, all day? It’s allowed. I allow myself to wallow in my own sick when I actually am sick. So when I woke up this morning and the water pressure in my apartment was shot, I mean it wasn’t even trickle pissing, I was a little disappointed. I waited for about fifteen minutes before I went down and bitched to the landlord who had no real excuse and said she had already called the landlord but didn’t know when it would be fixed. So I grabbed a pitcher half full of water from watering plants the night before and dumped it over my head so as to semi-style my hair. Then I put deodorant on my unwashed pits, which is, let’s face it, really just putting perfume on the pig. I used the last of the water in my Brita filter to brush my teeth and swallow vitamins. I’ve still got four days worth of stubble on my chin and cheeks. So I avoided as much interaction with officemates as I could today, feeling sorry for them cause I can smell my own ripeness sitting here at my computer. Good god I hope the water pressure is back when I get home.

I felt like crap pretty much all weekend. A head cold. Snotty and leaking. Per protocol, I spent almost all weekend on the couch watching movies (thanks to NetFlix), making sure that my cold didn’t get any worse, and I started to feel better (or at least tried to). Friday night I watched Party Girl. It was ok, I don’t know if I’d like it if it weren’t for Parker Posey, anyone else in that role might have bugged the crap out of me. Could I have a falafel with hot sauce, a side order of baba ganousch, and a seltzer please? The movie seemed dated somehow and it wasn’t as funny as it could have been. It was entertaining though and the story-line was cute but I wouldn’t rent it again. Laura, if you still read this, you might like it.

I slept in late on Saturday as part of the “not getting sicker” regimen. I spent the day grocery shopping, talking on the phone and tidying up. That night I watched Pie In The Sky: The Brigid Berlin Story. I love documentaries of eccentric people like this. Crumb, about Robert Crumb, was another good one that is similar. Brigid Berlin was an Andy Warhol crony and artist specializing mostly in the taping of private conversations for later playback in public (I found this fascinating) and monologues. She’s a hyperverbal sexagenarian plagued with obsessive-compulsive behaviors, a tortured family life, and an artistic mind. Despite what seems to be a tragic fall for Brigid Berlin, the movie shows us that Brigid was one of Warhol’s muses and influences and a respected artist in her own rite. And that despite leading a life lacking both unemployment and love, some happiness can be eked out. It was romantically tragic and captivating. Wow that sounded like a real movie review.

On Sunday I continued the “must not get any more ill” regimen by sleeping in till 11:00, laying on the couch till 2:00, eating a big lunch, going to the store for medicine, watching Hollow Man (which pretty much sucked but had some cool special effects), eating dinner, and watching the premier episode of the Surreal Life. That was about the size of my weekend.

Today was great. When I came into the office this morning the receptionist called me up and told me I had a FedEx waiting up front. I told her, “Cool thanks. I’ll be up there in a bit,” thinking that the proof for a report I had sent to the printers had arrived. After an hour or so the receptionist called back and said that I had better come get the package because it may be urgent.

Well it was, because waiting up front for me was a box full of Winter Lillys. From out of nowhere. For no reason. And it totally made my week. They’re wonderful and they’re sitting in a big glass vase on my desk right now just itching to pop into bloom. I’ve never been sent flowers to the office before. It creates quite a commotion. Lots of people are asking questions I’m not used to answering. Words like “jealous” and “admirer” and phrases like “who is she?” and “you must have done something right” have been making me blush and stumble around all day. I love it. Thanks.

Last night I re-met two people. I went to my old haunt and to have a couple of beers. As I was talking to the bar tender this guys sits down next to me. We end up shooting the shit for a couple of hours. About an hour or so into the conversation I realize that I had met this guy before, sometime earlier this summer. It was something about his political views and his knowledge of literature that started ringing bells. I brought this up to him – that I thought we had met before. He wouldn’t confirm it though. After talking for another half-hour or so, and after I brought up Ayn Rand, he agreed, and said he remembers having met me. But it was real foggy for both of us and could have been psychosomatic. I really feel like I met him before though.

Afterward I went over to the hippie bar. The bar was full, so I got a drink and then went and sat at a table in the corner and people watched. A girl came up, tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Hubs?” I acted like I knew who she was but couldn’t put it together. I thought that maybe she was a friend of my brothers. So, I faked it. She said that she saw me sitting alone and that I should join her. So I followed her over to her table and she introduced me to another stranger (this one I wasn’t supposed to know). As soon as we sat down she mentioned a funeral that she just went to recently. That’s when it hit me that I had met her at the haunt just before christmas, right after she had found out a friend died. I tried to cheer her up a bit and we hit it off pretty well. She looked a little different though (and I was a little drunk). It was cool of her to invite me over to there table. I couldn’t quite tell if the other guy was her boyfriend or just a friend but I felt like a bit of a third wheel when she once came back with just two shots. Anyway, it was nice to have the company. We ended the night with one of those awkward handshake-hug things.

I got an email from a reader offering to send me one of the books on my list. Since I hadn’t read it, I accepted and sent her my home address. A few days later it arrived with a note: “Hi! I hope you enjoy this more than I did. If, not don’t give up on Hemingway, ‘The Sun Also Rises’ was a really great book. Happy reading. Connie.”

Well, Connie, I haven’t give up. A Farewell To Arms was by no means a terrible novel. Nor was it an incredible novel. Mostly, it was just good. I haven’t quite figured out what all the fuss about Hemingway(‘s writing) is. It’s good. It’s got style. It’s poignant yet unemotional. It’s no frills and thus it seems his works may work best under the surface. It is said that Hemingway has done more to change the English-language novel than any other twentieth-century writer. I can for or against that statement, I can only say I enjoy his style. Equally, I enjoyed the novel but it’s not worth all the comotion. I likely will not read it again.

A Farewell To Arms is simply a story of love during war time (ignoring most of the political complexities, thank god). An overdone idea, but one that is fairly fresh to me, so that aspect didn’t wear on me.

After having read the last word of this novel and to myself, “That was just a sad story. A sad and crude story.” And it was. It was unrefined and raw and that’s the way I liked it. However, this sparseness led to little character development. And for much of the story I thought of the two main characters, Henry and Catherine, as shallow and somewhat infantile. There relationship seemed so lovey-dovey as to be artificial. It seemed phony. But after a while, I realized their love was actually thin only to begin with. He was war- torn and she was damaged. However, the war brought on a healthy codependency, between the two. They ended up genuinely needing each other and their conversations became endearing and earnest. And by the end of the novel I was proven wrong.

Thanks Connie.

The weekend was a complete bore. I watched Attack Of The 50 Ft Woman on Saturday night. It was terrible. If you want to literally waste 2 hours of your life on a crappy B-movie that tries very unsuccessfully to mix feminism with kitsch and a hit-you-over-the-head metaphor, then be my guest, but I nearly fell asleep over 100 times while watching this big piece of crap. In fact the movie was almost as poorly written as that last sentance. I thought that because it was directed by Christopher Guest, it might have a redeeming quality. I was sorely mistaken. Afterwards I went and got a couple of excruciatingly boring beers over at the old local haunt.

On Sunday I spent most of the day just laying around. I watched a lot of Kissing Jessica Stein again. I flipped back and forth between watching the Denver Donkey’s get whooped up on and the Blind Date marathon. The best part of the day came when I was watching The Lord Of The Rings: The Two Towers. I want to see the third one at the theatres so I figured I better get started. It’s kind of an ordeal. I mean, I spent four hours sitting on the couch watching that movie when you count bathroom, beer and dinner breaks. I suppose these movies deserve all the hype they get. I wanted not to like them, and to get to call them nerd flicks, and tell all you nerds to go watch star trek and let me know when they make a good movie, that’s not for nerds. You lame ass nerds. Then I’d hold my fist in the air and scream NERDS!!!! Like Ogre did in Revenge Of The Nerds (I, II and IV) after that I’d threaten to kick all your nerdy candy-asses (how come nobody hates nerds like they used to in the 80’s?). But I didn’t get to do that. In reality I really liked these flicks. A lot actually. The scenery, special effects, plot, characters, all done really nicely. So instead of calling myself a nerd too, I’m just gonna take back everything I said to you. Sorry.

I was actually looking forward to coming to work today.

Somebody save me.

Well it turns out I didn’t miss out on the Sushi last night. I met my brother and a bunch of friends and some new people, who seemed to ignore me most of the night (thought I admitedly was not “on” at all and really didn’t have much interest. But it seems today, for some reason, I feel some sort of self pity and strange guilt about it all this morning) at the hippy bar. Everyone who went out to dinner brought there left overs into the bar for me. I was so hungry that I just scarfed it down and didn’t get much of a chance to enjoy it. Plus I was feeling sort of self conscious about eating such decadent food in that bar. Some girl offered to take us all to Cervante’s Ballroom to see a band called The Motet. They were just OK. A six piece instrumental funk band. I danced quite a bit which was unusual for me, but it wasn’t really worth the $12 cover. Much of the night I spent talking to some cool strangers upstairs and dancing in this little covered area where this guy was painting a large portrait of the band. Afterward we all came back to my brothers and hung out for a while, it seemed wierd and I was easily annoyed for some reason when we got back. For the most part it was a pretty enjoyable evening though. I think I’ll spend the rest of the day hanging around at my brothers and then maybe watching the second lord of the rings movie so I can go see the third one at the theatre.