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contours provocations
journal - 2001-0223 - fri 2330 RTFJ - I don't feel like coming up with cute teasers, just Read The Fucking Journal! Was it really Monday when I last made an entry? Gads! Yikes! And such!!! The weather is acting very strange. Hot then cold! Cool then hot! It was 75 Wednesday but in the 30s Thursday. This morning it was chilly. But when I came home I turned on the AC. Two hours later, I had to turn up the heat. In the midst of the ups and downs, trees have started blooming. One species in particular, some type of fruitless berry, I think, is ablaze with pure white petals. The trees look like ones you'd see in a Grandma Moses painting. The trees are so white, it is overpowering; you almost feel snowblindness coming on. I've been eating lunch at the bar at XXXX for several weeks. It is a fairly quick way to have lunch and not too expensive. One of the female barkeeps has become unusually chatty. Today she made some comments about her boyfriend moving out and how he was taking her stuff. I thought that was a little personal. Then she asked if I wanted to go down to New Orleans tomorrow with her and a friend. I demurred indicating I was working on a big computer project - which is the truth. Plus I said I'd been down before on the Mardi Gras weekend, and it was insanity. She then made a comical comment, "You're just a big sissy!" Of course, about a dozen snappy comebacks popped into my demented brain. Not the least of which was, "You fucking got that one right!" Why can't I get this kind of response from a guy? I have the hots for the manager of the restaurant across the street. It is one of those situations in which someone makes you feel really special. There is something about him that I find a terrific turn-on. In fact, when we talk, I'm glad my lap is concealed under the table - if you get my drift. But he's married with two kids; of course, I know that means nothing. I recently re-subscribed to "Freshmen." And I received a free videotape. Which turned out to be a promo for/from Bel Ami. An interesting tape from a purely sociological view. BUT THE MUSIC! Dear Jesus, help me! Bulgarian elevator music would be a step up. Lyrical, swooning, sonic drivel. After a few minutes I had to hit the mute button. It did make me curious about one of the "Lucas Story" tapes though. The other night I could not sleep, so back to the living room I went/came. This is usually one of the few times I'll actually watch TV without doing something else. TNT had on a Joan Crawford flick I'd not heard of. Another one of those black and white films from the early 40s with lots of inticate lighting and wonderful props and sumptuous costumes and splendid sets. I can not see Joan Crawford without thinking of Bette Middler's comment in "The Divine Miss M." (Or it may have been the other concert one.) Bette saw a tee shirt with an image of Joan and beneath the words, "I didn't lie a fucking hand on those kids!" The Grammy Awards have come and gone. I wonder if Eminem's aversion to gays is somehow an indication of his own sexual insecurities. Has he ever had one of those penile response tests? I'm certain there are many guys who are so afraid of their own feelings, they would say or do anything. Including murder. The other morning I stopped at BK for my usual - two plain biscuits and a large Coke to go. I parked facing the patio playground for little kids. My first thought was I wondered if they could make those for grown ups. I then thought about all those neat places created for kids that big people would really like to try. So I've come up with the perfect solution. "Rent A Kid" A service that would offer an age-appropriate kid to go with you to the park or ice rink or playground, etc. Of course, for all appearances, the kid would be your nephew, cousin or whatever. Then you could hang out at the mall without fear of embarrassment. I could make millions! One last word. Dear Mr. Bug, "Thanks! I'm like speechless!" PAX!
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