repair
...did a little repair today, on bodily health, on relationships, on state of mind. it was sort of like doing nothing and sort of doing a lot. wanted to note it for the record.
gee whiz
....this kinda cute player winked at me from across the table the other night. Not an earth-shattering social development, but I don't get too many winks, so it was sort of encouraging. She's one of the regulars, a smiley Vietnamese woman who, being Asian, could be anywhere in age from 28 to 55.
plans within plans
Having slacked off most of the day watching the 3-hour recut of David Lynch's "Dune," i realized that I needed a plan lest I succumb to the temptation to spend the Rest of My Life sitting on a futon watching that masterpiece of a movie over and over again. Because that's what "Dune" is about -- having a complicated, devious plan to control all life/spice in the universe, and that's what I'm lacking. So I came up with six different plans, each a potential fallback of the other.
PLAN A: conform screenplay-writing and filmmaking to commercial/intelligible standards, risk financial ruin, make big movie, receive big accolades, quit job, find chick, become disgracefully-well-paid cog in Hollywood ego machine
PLAN B: maintain job, fret over financial security, devote efforts to making more money, buy snazzy household appliances, find normal chick, become normal
PLAN C: get back into theater, make stressful but spiritually-rewarding art, let house fall into ruin full of rehearsals and scraps of sets and props, probably find some really insane chick, repeat emotional failures of the years circa 1994-2001
PLAN D: maintain job, maintain casino- and Los Angeles-induced neuroses, and write novel about them (the novel being the most cost-effective and relationship-free art form that I can see)
PLAN E: concentrate all efforts on finding chick, which is probably the area in which I need the most improvement anyway. And by chick I mean...you know...soulmate.
PLAN F: learn how to play bitchin' guitar solos
I feel on much better footing now that these 6 practical, executable, totally contradictory plans are in place. And now when something falls through, instead of having existential crisis, I can just utter the magic words, "Well I guess it's time for Plan B/C/D/E/F." I've always really wanted to say that, anyway.
PLAN A: conform screenplay-writing and filmmaking to commercial/intelligible standards, risk financial ruin, make big movie, receive big accolades, quit job, find chick, become disgracefully-well-paid cog in Hollywood ego machine
PLAN B: maintain job, fret over financial security, devote efforts to making more money, buy snazzy household appliances, find normal chick, become normal
PLAN C: get back into theater, make stressful but spiritually-rewarding art, let house fall into ruin full of rehearsals and scraps of sets and props, probably find some really insane chick, repeat emotional failures of the years circa 1994-2001
PLAN D: maintain job, maintain casino- and Los Angeles-induced neuroses, and write novel about them (the novel being the most cost-effective and relationship-free art form that I can see)
PLAN E: concentrate all efforts on finding chick, which is probably the area in which I need the most improvement anyway. And by chick I mean...you know...soulmate.
PLAN F: learn how to play bitchin' guitar solos
I feel on much better footing now that these 6 practical, executable, totally contradictory plans are in place. And now when something falls through, instead of having existential crisis, I can just utter the magic words, "Well I guess it's time for Plan B/C/D/E/F." I've always really wanted to say that, anyway.
heard in the casino today....
....from this older Persian lady:
"How come you get in the middle of a problem that has nothing to do with you? It's between the two of them! Why do you get involved when it's not your problem? Why don't you just let them work it out themselves? I don't understand why you have to open your mouth for something that doesn't concern you...."
Yes, the lady was scolding the floorman for intervening in a dispute between two players that had absolutely nothing to do with her. She went on and on about this, how ridiculous it was for people to get involved in other people's problems that are none of their business, for what seemed like forever.
"How come you get in the middle of a problem that has nothing to do with you? It's between the two of them! Why do you get involved when it's not your problem? Why don't you just let them work it out themselves? I don't understand why you have to open your mouth for something that doesn't concern you...."
Yes, the lady was scolding the floorman for intervening in a dispute between two players that had absolutely nothing to do with her. She went on and on about this, how ridiculous it was for people to get involved in other people's problems that are none of their business, for what seemed like forever.
supermarket blues
Every time I go to the supermarket, I feel poor. The price of bathtub cleaner and breakfast cereal has gone up, what, like four dollars in my lifetime? That's an exaggeration because it would mean I was getting Crispix for free at the time of my birth, but I think you know what I'm talking about. I mean, macaroni and cheeze is almost three bucks a box now, and you still have to cook it and provide your own milk and butter. You'd think it would be self-custardizing by now, or at least would come in handy mac-cheeze enriched energy bar form. Also, I used to love Ritz crackers, but I never noticed that those are some salty little bastards. Was that always the case? Did they invent the low-sodium version so that they could make the regular ones entirely encrusted in salt crystal? It's harder to appreciate their buttery goodness when your whole mouth is seizing up.
This blog is clearly due for a post about some monumental change in my life, but this is not it.
This blog is clearly due for a post about some monumental change in my life, but this is not it.
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