21.Aug.2002

more beautiful america.

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american beauty

Day three of Tan and Tone America.

Krissy is a slender red-head who works the robotics floor. She is pale and agile and probably 25 although she looks 14. She was wearing jet-black velvet pants today, and she looked me in the eye and asked, "So did you feel the burn yesterday?"
I nodded although mesmerized by her trousers.
"I bet you slept great last night!" she said enthusiastically.
I said, "Well, yeah." although I wanted to say, "Well, Krissy of the fair and beautiful, I come from the land of neurotic self-loathing insomniacs and I spent the better portion of last night avoiding the telephone although I conversed with my �ber-goth friend Jubal until seven in the morning about the unoriginality of modern music.".

But I didn't.

When signing myself out and stepping into the lobby, I noticed a horde of Californian-esque, tanned and hard-bodied teenagers belittling all the fat women in the robotics department.

You gotta love America.

Talked to my father today who informed me he has a cataract in his right eye. It upsets me, but it sounds like a very simple, laser, out-patient procedure, so I'm trying not to worry too much about it. He is nearing 60 and rapidly. It's strange to see the time through that haze.

Worked on a song today, but my PMS-infected moods are beginning to affect my work, so I stepped away from the piano and ended up immersing myself in a shower that lasted through five repeats of Nitzer Ebb/Alan Wilder "Come Alive" bliss.

I promise here in the next week and a half my moods will lift, and I'll dissect the beauty of the moon and the beauty of driving and the beauty of train graveyards and the beauty of Jason with nothing but beautiful words.

I need to come alive.

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time & machine