Randomness to the extreme
You should all go out and see Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson right now. It’s really good.
I fell in love a few times this weekend in very strange ways, mostly with life, but also with tattoos — one that I saw and one that I only thought about. I still don’t want any myself.
Last week Ed Decker wrote this in cityBeat (I’ve enjoyed reading his column for as long as I can remember). Some friends and I discussed it a bit in a bar:
One point made was that they don’t make boom boxes anymore. I don’t think that’s a good enough excuse, you just have to try harder.
(It’s a metaphor for life)
I’ve been thinking about the romantic aspects of life lately. It seems like the past was more romantic than the present.
I think bench seats are terribly romantic — I recently rode in an old Ford pickup with a bench seat. When I bought my truck I tried so hard to get a bench seat… but they don’t make them anymore, everyone wants a “captain’s chair”.
*****
Greg: (telling a story about some things he, Grant and I did a long time ago)
Me: I really miss Grant sometimes.
(long uncomfortable pause)
Greg: He’s still alive, it’s not like he’s dead. He lives about five miles from here.
RB: Wow. I was sure he was dead the way you said that. Like he died a long time ago and you miss him, but you’ve mourned and come to terms with it.
Me: No, I just don’t see him enough.
*****
I spent a night in Golden Hill, in the flight path to Lindbergh Field. The planes stop flying in around midnight, I got there after that. As I was falling asleep when the sun was coming up the planes started to come in again, I thought it was the music. Saturday night I found myself at a potluck, again in the flight path. Vegan hot wings, bourbon on ice, good friends and airplanes over head. (I’ve always been slightly obsessed with watching airplanes take off and land).
*****
Sunday morning I had a very intense dream. Probably the most intense dream I’ve had in a while. The longer I’ve been awake the less I remember it. While I was dreaming it was the most real thing I’ve ever experienced. When I woke up I knew it was a dream, but it struck me how real it was. It was so real that I was sure I had dreamed about the same people the night before. I went back to sleep and the dream continued, now I knew it wasn’t “real” but it was still intense. When I woke up again I was shocked with how real it seemed. All I remember now is that it was about two people, journalists that I met through a friend. An unremarkable guy and a beautiful woman with vibrant red hair. She was working on a three part story, the first two parts had been published and the third hadn’t even been started yet. Then she killed herself, no one knew why, but no one was surprised. It was so emotional and real. I felt like I really knew these people. When I woke up I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t known them for my entire life, that I had only spent a few hours (or even minutes) of dreams with them.
