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Wednesday, Jul. 03, 2002 / 11:30 p.m. ~I Promise~ Do you ever just sit around and read your own online diary? Click on the "older", archives page and scroll through, reading all the clever titles you came up with, thinking, Yeah, it's not bad, I like it. It's mine. Do you ever? If you're right handed, do you ever sometimes masturbate with your left hand, just to see if you can? And before you have an orgasm, do you make sure to switch back to the right hand because you know it can do a better job? Do you ever look over at a sleeping cat and wish you had your camera in your hand so you could zoom in on her face, the expression there as she sleeps, knowing that if you got up to get the camera she would wake up and follow you? Do you find comfort in the fact that cats who live inside your home often want to be wherever you are? On the toilet, brushing your teeth, sitting in a chair, making coffee, sleeping in your bed, they want to be with you, there? Here? Do you ever turn on TVLand just so you can hear "The Munsters", "I Love Lucy", "The Andy Griffith Show", "Leave it to Beaver" and "Gilligan's Island" emanating from another room as you go about your business? Do you sometimes have an overwhelming desire to "clean" your teeth? My mother never said "brush", she always said "clean". "Go clean your teeth and get in bed", "Did you clean your teeth yet?" And she said "warsh" instead of "wash". I don't think of her often, but when I do I can remember little things like that. Little things. Go warsh your face and clean your teeth, then you can stay up to watch Johnny Carson in bed with me. I spent some time reading through Moby's journal archives tonight. He's written so much. SO much. So much about politics, during the Election in 2000. Wow, remember the Election? Remember waiting to find out who we elected? Remember it being all wrong? Remember the chads? The funky ballots? The old people in Florida who thought they voted for Gore, but they really voted for Pat Robertson? Remember the Supreme Court deciding Bush had won? Remember September 11th, 2001 making us all forget? Ah, you're right. We never did forget. Moby is awfully intelligent and articulate. But like any articulate and intelligent journal writer, he contradicts himself. He wrote that he didn't understand "being in love", then he wrote of "being in love" with Louise, in school, writing her a poem with all the first letters getting together to spell "Mobyloveslouise", but she didn't love him. I had to stop reading. It's small font on a white background, very hard on my eyes. In fact I've been squinting here at this monitor for hours now. I never went back to the sofa that misses my ass. It must be coated with some sort of invisible ass-repellent spray. I can't sit there for more than a half hour. Maybe one hour, max, then I'm up and in here, in my 'library'/'computer room'. I've been resting my feet on my new used PC tower. I have a new used tower. I like that, a "Tower". I know, I will hook it up, tomorrow. A la Scarlett O'Hara. Fiddle Dee Dee. I'll think about that tomorrow. Oh, Scarlett, you are so right. After all, tomorrow is another day. Even if today is the last day. What am I avoiding? I'm not sure. Sometimes it feels as if I'll miss something terribly important if I log off. Once I shut it down I lose my connection with the world and I am all alone again. Not that I mind, but what am I missing? Who am I not connecting with? With whom? Who is there who will be no longer once the power is removed? The power. Hah! Electricity is what I mean. I'm clearly rambling. I need to clean my teeth and warsh my face and get in bed, not to watch Johnny Carson, but maybe David Letterman, turning off "Gilligan's Island", though I've enjoyed the soundtrack, the incidental music I can hear from here. Tomorrow is another day, and after I sleep through a large portion of it I intend to accomplish one thing or another, and we won't know what exactly until then. Perfect. I love the possibiliities and promise not to hate myself if I accomplish nothing, if I laugh in the face of said possibiliites. I promise. Cost of the War in Iraq
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