Double Flee A

It was so windy today that walking across the wind was dangerous. It was coming from my left, and my left foot kept getting blown into the back of my right leg, making it seem as if I would trip, like I was in some perverted sense of humor fun-house. The only thing missing was the carny nearby, smiling menacingly and wiping his neck with a filthy Jack Daniel's handkerchief. My right foot, on the alternate steps, would wobble all around. On a small scale, it might have looked like I was performing a new form of dance.

I asked a guy I work with what I should make for dinner tonight, and he told me some kind of pasta with zucchini, onion, cilantro, carrots, and all sorts of other things. I didn't say, but thought, "actually, it's more like which can should I open?" I'm just not feeling up to making a big dinner. I'm kind of sore all over, think I'm coming down with something. I thought it might be dioxin poisoning, but I looked in the mirror and it was still good-lookin' me.

The dinner-suggestion guy is married but wishes he wasn't. That's how most married guys are, I think. The smart ones don't admit it. Most women, on the other hand, love marriage. It's what their whole lives have been leading up to. Go out on any playground in the world and you'll see little girls playing house. All the boys are skinning their knees playing competitive sports, at which there is a clear winner and a loser and which has a definite conclusion, but the girls play house, which never ends and in which there is only one rule: mom is the boss. From what I hear, that game never changes.

How will I ever get married? I've got myself totally convinced that it's a terrible idea, and for good reason. I don't want to live in a house where somebody else is the boss. At chez Dale, the toilet seat is up, there is a big gun where kids can get at it, and there is cold beer in the fridge, and that's the way I like it. What I like and why is not going to change. My surroundings reflect my preferences, nay, my very character, and I'm willingly going to introduce a firestorm of controversy into my life that will suck away my former identity like a tornado? What the hell?

I'm getting some chriatmas shopping done on the net, which is kind of saving me right now. There's no fusillade of obnoxious christmas music in front of the computer.

I just finished reading "Berlin Diary" by William Shirer, and it was great. Next I reread rise and fall of the third reich. Good times. Hopefully I'll have that one done and another started by the time school begins; Rise and Fall has a big swastika on the cover and I might get it confiscated by the diversity/sensitivity police. Maybe the one I'll start when I go to school will be called "Diversity is so fucking awesome that I wish I could be a different color every day! Being white makes me feel like shit!" There's not a book like that, but if there was, people would read it. Such is the state of "diversity". I failed a quesiton at a job interview about diversity when I wanted to be a 911 operator, thus, they wouldn't give me a job eating rocks at the city. I'm not stupid enough to go for that diversity-has-meaning garbage. A guy I work with is, though. He bought a cd called "diversecity" and then told a black guy about it. That black guy, ostensibly accustomed to the ingratiations of white people, said "Cool". I was watching all this and just shook my head. This is the same white guy that had formerly asked me if I liked "pirates of the Carribean", and I said sure. Then he said "me too" and that was the end of our conversation that day. A couple of days later he asked me again if I liked pirates of the carribean. I said no, because Johnny Depp's character seemed way over the top, it was clearly over-acted. He was kind of hurt that I didn't think it was awesome and that was the end of that, and for all I know, the end of his trying to get me to like him. I don't like people that want to be liked too much.

Anyway, I've got some slow music on the webcast tonight and tomorrow. It's music to OD by, so stay away from the heroin, please.

posted by dale @ 9:46 PM