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Monday, Aug. 16, 2004 / 11:26 a.m. ~Stay Away From the Towers!~ (A little cross-post, yet again, on account of because I am lazy) Here is some irony. It seems that a few of the folks who survived Hurricane Charley down in Florida, but are living without power, have imported some generators into their homes and thusly expired due to carbon monoxide poisoning. If it's not one thing it's another, life will surely kill you. After cleaning up Norma's copious regurgitation last night I had to get out. It was cabin fever of sorts, and being here was beginning to disgust me. I wrote a check for my long distance bill and filled out the form for the new cell phone, got in my little car (which started right up after sitting quietly for four days) and drove to the post office near where I work. It was 11:30 on a Sunday night, quiet, dark, very little traffic on the roads, and I took back roads, used my bright lights to see. I returned home and was filled with self loathing. I hated myself for my inertia which grows exponentially daily. I no longer even think of how there's a list of things to do that's not even being looked at. It's all the same things anyway, how could I forget? I fell asleep to "Elmer Gantry", woke at 5:30 a.m. and checked the schedule, saw "Woodstock" was just starting. I ate an apple to swallow my vitamins on a not so empty stomach and watched this different version of the movie I've seen countless times (*Edited to note this was the director's cut released in '94 for the 25th anniversary). This time Canned Heat played, and Janis Joplin, and Jorma Kaukonen (spelling?) sang an antiwar song. I'd never seen any of that. The impact was the same as it always is. Wow. Wish I'd been there. Wondering which one I would have been. The miserable one whining about too many people? The naked one with the big bar of soap in the pond? The one having sex with her boyfriend in the meadow? The one dancing in front of the stage? The one sleeping during all the morning music? The one passing the pipe? The one having the baby? It's still a good movie, it will always be a good movie, and the music will always be appropriate, timeless. And, I don't think I'd known Marty Scorsese was an editor and producer. Amazing, all of it, just amazing, some three and a half hours of it. Then, as if that wasn't enough, lying with cough in my chest sounding like flat pneumonia, thinking of Veronica again and her illness, knowing this was hers, she passed it to me, I have her bacteria, her virus, and which is it?, I lay and watched "White Oleander", I guess because "Thirteen" wasn't torturous enough last night. Totally different teenager in this one though, this one cares, and it's much more positive, but I think I've had enough blondes for one day. Now? Good god. The big last day of vacation, the fifth day. And on the fifth day... My favorite part of "Woodstock", this time around? The two guys speculating that planes had flown into the clouds, 'fascists' in planes, seeding the clouds to make it rain, and asking, "Why doesn't the media show the people that, huh?" Nothing ever changes. It all gloriously stays the same. Cost of the War in Iraq
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