October 20th, 2002

Salt Precaution

I can't understand the eighty monsters talking

Plook. Here, friends, is the river bank climb aboard, and I shall take you to the inflatable trees across the way . . .

I feel funky. Two days without shaving--I hate that so much. Few things I detest like I detest facial hair. Well, on my face anyway.

My face is itchy--it's very dry. I have this dry skin thing goin' on my face. Long ago, trisa recommended to me a moisturiser called Cetaphyl, or something like that. On Friday, I purchased some and it doesn't seem to be working.

You might recollect many entries ago my mentioning a vague desire to revisit a certain shopping area near where trisa worked very briefly. Well on Friday, I made it happen, and it was in the curiously cute Sav-On that I picked up trisa's recommended moisturiser. Interesting as, wandering aimlessly from there, it was trisa to whom I talked from a pay-phone outside a Borders in Carmel Mountain. She told me something that made me decide she was one of the coolest people in the world, all over again.

Now, you see . . . I had not actually meant to go to that shopping centre. I had meant to go to North County Fair Mall. Which eventually I did--but only many hours after making that decision.

Stepping away from a very brief visit with my friend Marty, a visit that was curtailed by a large group of students (Marty's a teacher) from another class--the other class's teacher was one Ms. Moffit, who, interestingly, I'd heard some jock-looking male students gossiping about in front of the school just moments before, wondering amongst themselves how old she is, and apparently gauging their chances if they should try asking her out.

It's always interesting listening to Santana High Schoolers talk while I'm waiting to see Marty. They all seem so very young now. For a moment, I think, "I can hardly believe it was only just in 1997 that I graduated," and then I think, "Holy shit. It's 2002 now--1997 was ages ago,"

When I was interviewed for Starbucks last week, Noemy (the manger who interviewed me), upon seeing that I’d gone to Santana, automatically asked me if I’d been there when the shooting had occurred. The shooting was 2001, I graduated in 1997.

But aw, hell, what does time really mean anyway?

Fuck time, and I mean that.

For some reason I just started thinking about Please Save My Earth, a short anime series which I have on DVD now. I think I’ll watch it to-morrow. It’s a sweetie of a show.

It shall hold me in place of the Fushigi Yuugi OVA set that Magious said I could borrow yet I forgot to take with me when I left his house this evening. Good series, that, Fuushigi Yuugi. And you can tell that, in part, just by the fact that 90% or so mangas coming out these days use the same basic formula made big with Fuushigi Yuugi--cute, sweet high school girl with slightly bizarre tendencies gets magically teleported to another planet/dimension, with no idea how she got their--the series then basically being about how this new world and she treat each other.

I was thinking a bit about how utterly obsessed with cuteness the Japanese seem to be. No other country seems to hold cuteness in quite the level of stoic, profound universally permeating respect as Japan.

Or maybe they’re just cute and I’m spinning my bread around in my head like pizza brain. Er, or perhaps the other around . . . or . . . perhaps not . . .

I’m terribly sleepy. Not much sleep in the past couple of nights.

On Friday, when I had finally reached North County Fair, I had a very good session at writing in my novel. It was great--I just wrote one scene, but it was a scene that reminded me why I was excited to be writing this story, and everything I wanted to convey and wanted to say . . . and made me feel good.

There was somewhere else I thought perhaps I ought to have gone on Friday, though; my aunt told me about an estate sale in Pacific Beach. There she had purchased--for only one dollar--a copy of Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, written in as a gift to someone by its first purchaser, and dated 1914!

From the same sale, my aunt bought me a copy of Akira Kurosawa’s Ran on DVD--a film I’ve not seen but, hey, it’s Kurosawa. I’m pleased.

My aunt told me that the guy had apparently lived his life inside everyday, just watching movies and reading books. Sounds like my kind of guy.

How often do I dream of living that way?

. . . I wandered around downtown on Saturday morning. A guy that looked almost exactly like Jason Mewes (Jay of Jay and Silent Bob fame) asked me for a cigarette and I almost told him, “Sorry I’m out,”

(I don’t smoke, you see). Perhaps it’s something to do with being used to hanging out with trisa.

At the new two story Borders, I ate a muffin for breakfast.

After that, I watched the DVD of Vanilla Sky--a film that I’ve realised I have some very complicated opinions about--that I had purchased on Friday, for 12 dollars, from a Hollywood Video in Rancho Bernardo I’d never been to before . . .

Y’know, looking back over the past two days, it seems to me that I’m in a wanderlust again.

I saw a very fat woman standing beside her car, on the shoulder of the freeway on the way to North County Fair. She was just standing up straight, not leaning against anything, staring out into the traffic. So that it seemed to me that she was standing there being stranded and fat. I wonder if my car shall break down like that one day, and I’ll just stand there looking helpless, with my decadent lifestyle just hanging on me, large and naked.


Hm:) I can sleep now.
  • Current Music
    Tom Waits - The Piano Has Been Drinking
Salt Precaution

Scooby Doom

Dreamt Marty taught in an enormous, shadowy, auditorium-like class room, and for some reason, while I was visiting, he was showing his class a Scooby Doo movie (one of the animated ones). He seemed quite fixated on it too--I pondered this as I sat down at a desk to eat an In-and-Out grill cheese I had with me.

The only problem; wherever I tried to sit I could not be comfortable because a ray of sun light, filtering somehow through a tiny crevasse somewhere, always followed me, and felt as though it was burning me.

Now I'm awake.

Awaked at 1pm by the buzzing of my pager--my sister telling me that she and my parents are back from their miniature vacation to Julian. I'll prolly go over there later . . .

just a reminder, Setsuled, you need to write two essays for class on Sunday. Perhaps you ought to get working on them?

Did you hear something? I sure didn't. Anyway, I'm off to the shower . . .
  • Current Music
    Bob Dylan - See You Later Allen Ginsberg