Sick

I've been sick for the last few days. There is nothing more pathetic than a guy when he is in the throws of a semi-high fever. I'm not exactly the most manly of men, but when my internal temperature increases by a few degrees I get whiny and weepy. I should probably apologies to my friends, for the last few days all my conversations started with "I got super sick the other day." But maybe it can be explained away by my brain being completely fried. Most interesting thing about being sick: fever dreams. The beautiful, weird fever dream.

Porch Sitting

My first porch sitting of the season. Pretty excited about that. I picked up some Kobe beef through perhaps a less than licit way. Just wonderful. I pan-seared them, three minutes on each side, and let sit. Then I made kind of a mini-steak fries hash and plated it. I grabbed a 312 and sat myself down on the porch. Very content.

Writer's Market

Well, I've done it. I've gone down that desperate road as every other potential writer and freelance reporter. I walked into the Borders, asked for the writing section and picked up a copy of this years Writer's Market. It truly is the most depressing spot in the whole store--the writing section. If you want a book about how to write a children's book, it's there. Got a writer and the family and think they might need some pointers on the next great american novel, head over to that corner over there, the one on the other side of the self help section. 

These things are expensive, too. Some publishing company makes a lot of money selling these things to people who probably will never open the damn things. But it's not all bad. Flipping through the thing, I found Mad Magazine. They are 100% freelance, and buy something like 400 damn manuscripts each year. Now I just have to write something funny . . . well damn.

Henry Rollins, 50

Last night I went to see Henry Rollins at the Canopy Club. I'll be honest. I went into it with some doubts. I had some expectations for his spoken word or stand-up or what ever you want to call it. I must say he surprised me. He had a few 10 minute bits that were truly inspiring. When he spoke of his history and his introduction into Black Flag, I felt his excitement and felt like I could achieve some similar changes in my own life. But that was only a part of his more than two hour show.

But when he left his inspiring spoken word and started his stand-up routine I must say I hated it. He volleyed between not being funny (which he kept insisting he wasn't trying to be) and being sort of offensive. He contradicted himself over and over. At one point he praised the working class, but then later made fun of them.

But all my complaints probably stem from my own comedy geekery. I had a stupid nerd reaction. "How dare he try to become a comedian," I think I said to myself more than a few times. And he ended up with a better reaction from the crowd than most comedians I've seen. He packed the club and everyone laughed at all the right points. I didn't really get it, but everyone else seemed to lap it up.

I am impressed by his energy. He stood and screamed out into the crowd for more than two hours. I don't think he took a breath. And he's 50-years-old. I don't think I could do that now. 

Dad Clothes

There really is no excuse, but I was tired. I woke up today and put on what I thought was decent clothes. It took me a few hours to realize I was wearing dad clothes. A polo and old jeans and white tennis shoes. This is not what I meant when I said I would start dressing like a grown up. Maybe I should rephrase that to dress my age.