As wonky as the weather in Los Angeles has been lately, so have my moods. My coconut juices have been sloshy and rather incoherent, in a bad way — I can’t make up my mind about anything. What to order for lunch? What to write about on artofstarving? Whether to buy an inexpensive couch, or a really nice one. All things that don’t really matter, but I’ve struggled needlessly anyway. I’ve been a worrywart and a sourpuss, and even I haven’t enjoy hanging out myself lately.
Some other things that bug me…
Handicap people make up less than 2% of the population but account for more than 33% of toilet stalls. That is prejudiced and unfair to those of us needing to go to the bathroom who don’t have the luxury of rolling around in a seat on wheels.
It’s going to be my number two priority to see more stalls for the un-handicap.
Number one priority is seeing to it that more tall urinals are available. Those little urinals makes it too easy to pee on your shoe.
I’m kidding, of course… I never pissed on my shoe before — that would be uncool.
We take our health for granted. At least I do. Every morning I try to feel the joy of being alive, of awakening as a fully conscious, sentient soul and appreciate what a special blessing that is; but sometimes that alarm clock just isn’t your friend, and you would gladly offer any ransom to retrieve a couple of hours of precious dreamtime.
After I shower I wipe the water off my body before getting out. Less water absorbed by your towel means you have to wash it less often, saving water. I’ve trained myself not to feel cold a sorta jedi-zen mind over matter, where before I’d immediately jump into a towel like I just climbed out of some iceberg-infested waters, now I barely need one. I just drip dry like some future apocalypse shower.
This post-shower process also gives you a chance every morning to get acquainted with your body, to explore your flesh. As you wipe off the water, think, ‘this is my arm. This is my elbow. These are my lungs. This is my chest. This is my birth mark. ‘
When I come upon a pimple, I say, ‘this is a pimple. It is evil and a pest. We are sworn enemies.’
When you think about it, and I do an oddly large amount, so much of our lives are spent eating in restaurants, cooking in kitchens, and personal maintenance in the bathroom. Every now and then we come out for drinks at the bar. One time we stayed up till four in the morning talking on the couch… I remember famously Johnnycakes was discussed. The moon had a serious glow that night. Sometimes the moon does that… get all serious.
A serious moon casts a strange light in which every thing looks like a facade, like there’s no depth or insides to any of the buildings, the trees resemble cardboard.
I’m trying to live with less these days but the more stuff I get rid of the more I get to fill the space — and I live in a small apartment, too small for all my things. My books have become a burden. They’re already in my head so what good are they doing stacked in the closet? The bookcase and all those titles are nothing but vanity lined up, my desire to inform the world of my sophisticated tastes.
I bought a shirt I don’t really like because it was a great deal, only $20, down from $145; but I don’t have a pair of pants that goes with it so I’ll have to buy some jeans. Be careful of anything that is too good of a deal. Be careful of how the mind rationalizes things that are ultimately counter to what is good for it. The mind is a turbid, steaming mudpool of confusion, and we’re swimming blindly in it everyday. I need shoes now too.
If Jesus came back to Earth would he ever be believed? It’s a catch-22 where anyone who claims to be Jesus is immediately dismissed as insane, as a charlatan. What if Jesus came back and just gave up this time? Spent his days drinking beers and hustling folks at pool? That’s rhetorical of course.
I could blame these thoughts on the moon, and its serious glow, but I’d rather own up to my quirks. I’m constantly craving the cringe, lost in stunted wonderment. I’m perpetually baffled by all the new things there are to learn, people to meet, places to go. I could blame these moods on the planets’ alignment or some karmic equation coming to fruition, but I don’t really feel like placing blame, because I don’t bad for them, there’s no blame to be had, these thoughts are what keeps the flashlight lit, exploring the swamp, these sundry Sunday nights.