Old Blog 6

Saturday, August 28, 2004


I just realized that this summer marks the 8th anniversary of this site.


posted @ 11:44 am

Thursday, August 19, 2004


I am trying – trying like hell – to get this novel done,
so it looks like for the next couple of weeks I’ll be in The Isolation
Chamber (TM), my room/state of mind where I handcuff myself to my desk
and Superglue the pen to my hand. I block out all human contact, unplug
the phone, and listen only to instrumental music because the words just
get in the way.

So, blogging might be kept to a minimum until after The
Jerry Lewis Telethon, aka Labor Day. There’s a chance I’ll pop up here
and there to post some breaking news or some tidbit of info that I just
know you can’t do without. But don’t count on too much for the next few
weeks. And if you send me an e-mail, I’ll answer but don’t yell at me
if it takes a while.

Yabba dabba doo.

posted @ 8:20 pm


A quick post to point you to the obits for two great film/TV composers who passed away recently: Elmer Bernstein and Jerry Goldsmith. Also check out the impressive resumes of Bernstein and Goldsmith.

posted @ 8:14 pm

Tuesday, August 17, 2004


“Modern products in a vintage light”.

posted @ 1:32 am

Monday, August 16, 2004


In 2000, Julia Child kept a diary for Slate. Cool lady.

posted @ 2:52 pm

Wednesday, August 11, 2004


This is pretty scary.

posted @ 4:12 pm

Saturday, August 7, 2004


In the latest Archie comic, Veronica goes topless. Ooooh yeah!

posted @ 9:59 pm

Wednesday, August 4, 2004


She was a complex girl, capable of acts both incredibly
kind and oddly detached. She was extremely nice, adored children, and
awwwwwwwwed at emotional moments in movies. She was light-hearted,
crazy, and fun, but capable of telling you to go F yourself if she
didn’t like the line you were feeding her. She wasn’t the most
attractive girl, at least not in a natural, consistent sense. She could
look stunning one day, but if you saw her in the morning she was like a
completely different person. Not just in the “just woke up” sense, but
in a way that altered her personality. The way she acted towards you
was directly related to the way she looked, or more accurately, in the
way that she perceived her appearance. But I wouldn’t call it vanity or
ego. Not at all. It wasn’t that black and white.

Like I said, she was a complex girl.

We had sex maybe 7 times over the course of a few years.
The first time happened the way many first times happen, with the help
of alcohol and close quarters and youthful exhuburance. Times 2 through
6 happened the same way, though with each year that passed the alcohol
consumption lessened, replaced by just a certain comfort level and my
ability to make her laugh at anything I said. We were good friends who
went beyond that good friendship and realized what we were doing.

The last time came as a complete shock to me, though I
can’t speak for her. Maybe when she saw me that night, the night I
waited for her to get off her late shift at the bar, she instantly
sized up the situation and planned to do something later that night
with me. I can’t say for sure. I do know that it wasn’t on my mind. We
hadn’t seen each other in months. And in a weird way this night was
like the epilogue of a relationship. Not that we ever offically “went
out,” but we were on that razor edge of never hanging out again. That
brink of time where you can picture yourself not really seeing each
other again. Not because of some messy break up or hatred or even
dislike of each other. Just a natural occurance that happens when you
get older, you move on to other jobs, to other aspects of your life.
That last time, we both knew what was happening, even if we didn’t
vocalize it or even put out of the realm of possibility it ever
happening again if the opportunity arose. We both knew that there will
probably come a day when the lives we were leading would be so much
different, even if there was a mixture of the sameness you can get from
living in your hometown, going to the same places, passing the same

She had the softest skin of any girl I have ever touched.

We haven’t spoken to each other in several years, even
though we live not only in the same city but just a mile away from each
other. We move in different circles. She is someone who has decided to
live in her hometown and become “of” her hometown, forever. I live here
because the thought of moving anywhere else paralyzes me emotionally
and is out of the question financially. We have different friends and
different goals. She still smokes pot while I have moved on. I think
she hangs out in bars while I’d rather stay home. She works in
a local bar while I would see such a thing as moving backward. At least
in the city you grew up in, where the friends and neighbors and family
that see you working in a bar after you’ve moved beyond that sort of
lifestyle often brings about its own amount of discomfort and baggage.

I saw her today as I was coming out of a store. She was
across the street, walking rather fast, with a purpose and a
destination. Her hair was the same, a bland sort of blonde, but she had
gained a few pounds, and the Ray-Bans she wore couldn’t quite hide the
lines in her face that had increased in the past 5 years. I started to
call her name, to stop her so I could run over and talk to her and see
how she had been all this time. But I stopped myself. My mouth was open
but I concentrated hard enough so nothing came out but a small,
whispering consonent and maybe a gasp of air out of my lungs.

I’ve been wondering all day why I didn’t call out to
her. What was I hiding from? What difference did it make to talk to
her? I can rationalize things and say it was just a matter of not
wanting to get trapped in that relationship again. But that would just
be stroking my ego. As if I can assume that might even happen. I think
I stopped myself from calling her name because she is part of my past
that I don’t want to continue anymore. Not that it was a bad part of my
past. Not at all. In fact, I met her during one of the best periods in
my life. But in that millisecond of recognition, I think I
subconsciously knew that anything we could talk about, all the idle
chit chat about jobs or relationships or kids that mutual friends now
had, would only serve to somehow lessen the experience of knowing each
other and being together all those years ago. If the talk was
uncomfortable or boring or we had nothing to say to each other or we
both realized that we were different and that these “running into each
other every five years” pattern was exactly the right amount of time
that we should see each other…I think that would have hurt a little.

So I sit here, wondering if I did the right thing but
knowing in my head and heart that I probably did. But I also know that
in the future, I just might let those words come out. I’ll call her
name and run over to her and talk to her and see how she is. And I’ll
see if certain patterns can be broken.

posted @ 4:22 pm


Cingular introduces Escape-A-Date!

posted @2:40 pm

Tuesday, August 3, 2004


So you’re wondering, what’s with all the pop-up ads and
everything else that makes coming to this site a bit of an annoyance?”
Ah, it’s the nature of the beast. Free web hosting = you have to put up
with ads. But all that’s about to change. I’m gonna start paying for
this little acre of web in the next month or so, which means all the
ads will vanish – poof! – as if David Blaine had visited and worked his
particular brand of magic.

But my need for money won’t disappear, so if you’d like
to click on the Amazon pay box on the left and give what you can (a $1
or $2 would be fantastic), it would help keep these pop-ups from coming

Thanks in advance. (And this concludes this week’s begging.)

posted @ 10:44 pm


He’s ready to love again. Thank God.

posted @ 3:06 pm

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