Monthly Archives: October 2008

Plans for Plato

So far I have the synopsis & skeletal framework for the first book in a series I plan on for a few Platonic Dialogues of my own. The plan is really the best thing I have at the moment, and I fear for ruining what could be a great idea, but it must be done.

Perhaps I shouldn’t undertake the venture, but it’s taken me quite some time to really figure out what I want to do with my life, let alone how I want to execute it. So with this, I will strive to fulfill my own hopes for myself, and not to disappoint the posterity. Unfortunately, I don’t have much of a plan, but I do have strong intent, and abundant goodwill, so I’m hoping that will take me at least an 8th to a quarter of the path I need to tread. Some of the way is all I ask, dear Universe.

When I think of the path ahead with this in mind as the endpoint, I am filled with great joy, and I think that’s healthy. So no matter how terribly I ruin the book[s], I will be satisfied when I can walk in Fairmount Park with my beloved, not having to worry about an office, rental deadlines, or anything of that sort.

I’m ready to get down to enjoying this life.

New Finds

Touching base with the blog again. Probably shouldn’t refer to it so overtly, it’s like Noel talking about the fact that he’s singing a song, but what the hell, might as well, eh? In fact, it’s a near-miracle I’m saying anything at all at the moment, but lacking input yields lacking output, know what I mean? Unless you’re the virgin Mary (now is that a capital “V” or not?)…

On a new musical note, I’ve just discovered Morrissey. Yes, I’m 27, I was once a fan of The Cure and pre-’93 South Street in Philly, and I’m just discovering Morrissey. Fuck off if you don’t like it! (that’s said in jest–if you’re reading this I’d never want you to fuck off, unless you have a problem with what I say. Then you can still fuck off.)

So, yeah, back to Morrissey. He’s apparently queer, or slightly beyond queer–maybe queer^2? As you know, I’m cool with that. Your sexuality is fine with me–it’s up to you, so long as it’s with a consenting adult/young adult 16 or above, or another consenting mammal, preferably live. He said a few things about sexuality that piqued my interest, most notably a contention which I also subscribe to regarding the categorization of sexualities. I read it on Wiki so I’m not going to bother quoting it, because it’s hardly quotable in its miniscule form. But basically, he’s beyond hetero, homo, and bi-sexual. He’s also not much of a tranny, I expect either. I appreciate the tedium he admits with cosigning oneself to but one gender in terms of finding sexual gratification; he says all humans have the same sexual needs, which is exceptionally true, at least when we’re talking about relatively normal ones that don’t delve into pedophilia or other weirdness like scat and the like.

Sexual liberalism = A+. Go Team Morrissey!

Cycles: Ante, Mid, Post, Uni, Bi, Tri

At the risk of appearing facile, I really don’t have much to say at the moment. In life, I mean. That’s why I haven’t become a writer yet. But I was thinking a thing or two, so here’s what I was thinking and didn’t say:

Theoretical Landscape: Dylan wasn’t actually in a room of televisions or projections on walls. So where was he sitting with his brother in arms? In his brain, of course. Projecting out onto the walls of the world. One is never alone in one’s own mind, never alone at all.

Athlete’s Foot in Public: An Impossible Situation.
The situation’s impossible anyhow. What’s there to say to strangers, having been foisted upon them semi-involuntarily, people that could go on unknown and undifferentiated quite happily really. Watch the hostess’ cat clean itself, moving from head to belly, belly to balls, inner thigh outer thigh, and finally to foot. That tongue, like a boar’s head bristle brush. Getting at an itch deep in there between the toes. Damn it! You need to clean between your toes! A bristle-brush tongue to clean every inch of heel, toe, foot burning in your boots. Black boots, shiny boots of leather. Not so shiny anymore. Haven’t been polished since the 6th month. Now they’re like a coarse layer of skin, your skin: ashy, wrinkled, and somewhere between brown and black. And itchy in some spots. Go home. Shower. Salve. Sleep.