I forget when I have slept and when I’ve not.

Last night I walked around downtown and watched the clubs get ready for the dancing. Just before I did this, I smoked a cigar(rette?) and it’s the first time I really smoked, except that I didn’t really smoke because I didn’t let any smoke pass my trachea, because that would surely make me choke. When I bought them, we were in Charlottesville and we were going to use them to celebrate conquering a Charlottesville-sized mountain, which are not very big, but I am way out of shape and we did not make the summit, and it was steep and made us very tired, so we stopped and I guess we figured that we did not deserve the cigars.

I thought that the smoking would be exciting, because I was rebelling against my straight-laced convictions, but I mostly handled it like a pro and got bored with it in a few minutes. At the time I was wondering if the nicotine would enter my bloodstream via capillaries on my tongue and gums, because at the time I felt like I needed some soothing, but nothing really happened except having a kind of nasty taste in my mouth.

I got bored with downtown too. Everyone was looking slick and on the ready. I needed to go out and walk around because I was feeling very claustrophobic at the time, or at least the claustrophobia-style panicking.

Today was Easter, and Stuart invited me over to eat with his wife and his wife’s sister and his wife’s sister’s boyfriend. We ate Stuart’s gumbo, which was delicious and had sausages and pheasants in it. Stuart said he shot the pheasants in South Dakota. I didn’t really ask, though.

Besides the quick meal at Stuart’s, I haven’t done anything for Easter. I turned on the History Channel and used the material to nap to, because I haven’t slept much this weekend because of all of the work I’ve had to do for my job, which is starting to annoy me. Anyway, the programs were about Jesus and John the Baptist and other religious stuff. It’s great for napping to.

I knew this song, but I never realized it belonged to Todd Rundgren. It is a smash hit from 1972, and watching the tail end of “That 70′s Show” made me realise that I needed to know it better, and that’s when I found out it was Todd Rundgren’s. Then I found out that Todd Rundgren is playing nearby in April, so I am figuring what the hell? I can afford to LEISURE.

Also, on Saturday I went to look at an apartment. It is in the prime part of downtown. I pretty much ended up signing a lease, and then later on I was shocked that I had signed a lease. It’s a quaint place. Maybe a little small, but there’s just me anyway. It’s sort of like an addendum to a house. The windows look out at a playground and a church. The other windows look out at my landlord’s house, and her garden. It will be a start.

I don’t know if I want to stay in Florida for very long, anyway. I think my next move should be very foreign.

Mike is a guy I know from work, and he is quitting to take a facilities position in Antarctica. How cool is that? I would like to visit Antarctica, but I don’t know about living there, I guess. He will be working for some science foundation, I guess. Maybe they spend their days running around with clipboards and reading thermometers. Probably.

I am going to bed. Again. Withorwithout Jesus, because it depends on what’s on the History Channel.

my brain does not work properly, and i have figured this out.

what is required is a physical change of components and connections. requiring severings, reconnections, soldering grinding and welding, brazing, etc. of actual little tiny components and synapses inside my head.

until this is able to happen, i think that i am fucked, and i must act with verility to barrage myself with distractions.

right now, i am going to find out what it is like to walk out my door and go somewhere new.

this is not the night to see the ocean, though.

i am invisible and nobody likes me and i don’t belong and i won’t be long.

plus i am ugly and uninteresting and have bad posture and am dumb.

plus i am not really invisible just not worth noticing.

plus i am fat and i am over it.

no i’m not.

also i am not vain, just disappointed in myself.

plus i spend money without investing thought in proper decision making.

plus i am pending a coffee and alchol problem.

plus somebody at work wrote in an action item that said “pending tim” and i said that sounded like a good name for a movie.

also i do not like houses that other people like.

other people like houses that are in soulless culdesacs and are the same and the same and the same one after another and they like to pay approximately one hundred and fifty dollars per square foot, because there are more people buying houses than there are houses.

also, fuck it because i don’t think i want to live here for very long anyway.

some day i am bound to have courage and grace under pressure, even if it is only for a moment, sometimes a moment is enough

on sunday night i saw interpol and at one point i developed moisture within my eyelids. please do not desseminate that information, i am sure it was just a chunk of dust or a feeling of release from tension or something only very slightly sentimental.

plus, i did not talk to anyone at the concert, except for some teenagers in line. i planned the interuption of their conversation, because i was taking an active attempt at being more social, so i interjected a comment instead of not saying anything and staring out at the lake.

i saw the album leaf along with some other bands that i did not care about. that was monday night and i did not interject into any conversations at all, not even when jimmy lavalle was sitting next to me at the bar because i was second-guessing my strategy to socialize without inhibitions because i couldn’t figure out if they were the enlightened ones or me, and i felt like an outsider and a wallflower but i called myself a wallweed in my head and i leaned hard against a corner because i was exhausted from being awake so much lately, and i contemplated leaving before the album leaf appeared, because i thought “who am i kidding? what am i really here for? what great fucking things could possibly happen?” but i stayed in spite of myself and i was right because nothing great happened and even though it was going fine i left in the middle of the set because it felt worthless.

also, if i like rocknroll so much why don’t i just fucking marry it?

also i looked at five houses with a realtor last night and even though two of them were nice, they were all investments i did not feel comfortable with making and so fuck that, but i didn’t tell the realtor lady that, because she is nice enough and she is taking time out of her day because that is her job.

also, during a break in the house action, i bought hipster jeans at the supertarget. i also bought a hipster buttondown which looks like a green tablecloth and it is made out of linen and it is hip, just like i said before.

tongiht the french kicks and calla are playing in town but i am not going because i don’t care that much right now.

today i did fifty sit-ups and i ran once around the lake without stopping, except when i started walking towards the end, but irregardless i am still fat and i jiggle myself and ask if i am ready for winter and i say that i am, asshole.

plus tonight i was about to order $350 in hockey equipment until i realized that the skates were size 6 and the sticks were 46 inches tall and god only knows how the other stuff would have fit, so i did not buy anything. i would still like to make the hockey thing work out, because it is a nice hobby to have, when there is time to have hobbies again.

sometimes there are cars full of college students around the universty area that have potsmoke streaming out of the windows, and potsmoke doesn’t smell that bad if you’re bored.

during the interpol show on sunday they were playing ‘filth pig’ and ‘lava’ on the PA system while we waited patiently. i phoned chad and let them play on the voicemail, but later on he said he couldnt hear anything.

also i have been thinking about what to do with my vacation this summer, because i want to do something exxtravagent like when i attacked europe with a backpack and slept in small beds with rushing streams and fjords out the windows but never stopped long enough to memorize any of it, except when i missed jeff and marcy on their way to versailles and i collapsed in a dumb holiday inn express in paris and could not figure out which way was out ,andbut this time i would do something that qualifies as superfluously adventerous like climbing an iceberg in svalbard with a polar bear (cub) strapped to my shoulders, and delivering the frightened polar bear (cub) to its rightful dominion, or maybe just bicycling in aarhus and finding some miscellaneous girl and seducing her and making out with her at her huge danish apartment.

but also i have come to find out that i am a liberal and feel the need to maybe volunteer to help in some form in asia, but wondering if that can somehow be construed as arrogant, because people here find ways to feel negative about everything.

i will find something to do because i think that i have approximately two months’ worht of vacation time this year, and i shalt not dilly dally!

also i feel weird tonight, just like i do every night, and so that’s why.

also i am smart so i am going to bed early tonight.

good-bye.

It is amazing, what three hours of determination, and the internet, can do for you.

When I got back to Orlando last weekend, I was determined to begin really living here, and so I answered posts, I shot communiques to various anonymous people.

A week later, my potentials are:

1. Viewer & discusser of new and old films. In a group of (4) superpretentious people, which wouldn’t necessarily be bad at all. I suggested “Withnail & I” for the first one, because Adam said I have to see it, even though I have no idea what it is, but I think it might be a film.

2. Canoer, kayaker, hiker. Just generally doing outdoor & wilderness type activities with a gay nudist and his partner, who prefer to do these things while being very naked, but who have promised to only invite me along if it is the run-of-the-mill hiking, canoeing, etc, or at least an activity that a fully-clothed celibate prude can deal with.

3. Singer in a rock’n'f’n'roll band. I have talked with Sean on the phone, and he’s a very cool guy. He says the stuff so far sounds a little Radiohead, a little postrock. I said I’m not too familiar with it, but I’ll improvise. This also means I need to start creating lyrics that don’t suck. Like “Maggie May”.

4. Soccer player (after a 7 or 8 year hiatus). David, who is a very very perverted dude from my work, and from Glasgow, who reminds me of someone from Trainspotting or Mogwai, but who would not like either, but who might like Braveheart, or might not, says his team might need a player. I said that I was a hack who had a reputation for playing very rough, as if I was angry about something. He said that he was the skilled footballer who all the rough kids were chopping down during a cut towards the goal. In my day, I did score three or four goals in a four-month span of playing forward. I remember everyone being very excited for me, because we had all been on teams together for years, and I had never scored goals because I was always a fullback. Anyway, David said that he’d mention it to his team, and then he told a story about how his friend was fucking this lass in the corner of a church once, back in Glasgow, and she was telling David’s friend how much she was into David while they were doing this. And she would say “Do you think you could talk to David for me?” David’s friend was determined to stay focused, but managed to grunt a “sure thing”. I like how Scottish accents always trail upward in pitch towards the end of their sentences, even when they’re not asking questions. Even when they are saying something matter-of-factly.

5. Hockey player. It’s been 6 or 7 years since I played hockey consistently. I will need to buy all new equipment. Please note, there is no “Great Skate” in Florida. Fogdog, here I come.

6. Mysterious Observer of Indie Rock Shows. Do you know how amazed I was to see the upcoming concert listings last night? Let’s get this one out of the way, first. I flipped through the shows for Friday – nothing. Saturday – nothing. Sunday – …. Interpol?! I queued-up Ticketmaster ….. I crossed my fingers….. …. SCORE! I am seeing Interpol tomorrow, where 16 hours ago, I was not. In addition, we have The Album Leaf on Monday, The French Kicks and Calla on Wednesday, VHS or Beta on Thursday, Zoso (Zeppelin tribute) next Saturday, Trail of Dead in two Saturdays. Are you kidding, Orlando?

7. Laundryer. This is a mundane thing that simply must happen.

8. There is no number eight.

i dodge rainshowers. we are adults with very important jobs to do. my scarred head is cramping in its pillows. we smear warpaint on your cheeks, and send you to yr deep dark doom. there is nothing to talk about, or worth explaining. we convince each other, or else we do not have to anymore. we are denizens. even though we are rich and bored, we cannot afford to live here. we are cumulus, puffy and pastey-white. floaters and loafers. concluding to dissipate. griffins and gargoyles atop our pedestals and pillars. getting bored when we talk about sex. lost souls that just must be burning, inadvertently left in hotel rooms, forgotten when the bus took roll and left town. whiskey and ice grimaces. intending to mean something. we are cirrostratus, thin and wan and scraping against the glass at the top of the world, like cigarette smoke that has traveled a thousand miles, haloing with distances we might try to fathom if we were more conscious than this, thousands and thousands and thousandths. never having loved anything but myths and legends and fictions and sleeps. we are nimbus, trying to represent an aura of godliness but just ending up a shitty gray raincloud. ffffffffffllllllllllhht.-unflyable.
-tim, st.patricks day, billcorgans birthday, drunkw/headache.

i am a prOject manager.

i make things hAppen. i make lots of phone calls. i make things to mOve.

my elbow is un-swOllen. it hurts less.

we have arranged for three hundred thousand dollars of extra work. they charge two hundred and twenty dollars per hour for my services. they do not pay me quite that much.

but i charge fourteen hours per day. i work fifteen.

i remind myself why i have chosen an office job.