2:52 a.m. where I am.
I'm awake, wish I could sleep.
Constipated thinkers are my bane and my curse and my nemeses and there are so damn many of them. They're everywhere... people who believe that creativity and fresh ideas are a threat and that dull-witted conformity paired with plodding obedience equal safety and security.
I want them all to go away, or for me to go away and live in Tibet or Nicoma Park. A big old house in a semirural area where cats, dogs and anarchists would run free and Promise Keepers would be stopped at the perimeter guard shack and allowed no closer.
You know that saying 'You don't have to be crazy to be here, but it helps?' Wouldn't be good enough. You would actually have to be crazy to be here. I'd require proof. But crazy and smart. Crazy and stupid is no virtue. But if that's you, I hear they're hiring at the White House.
My dad's head. Orson Welles' body.
Ever heard that tape of Welles berating the producer on the frozen peas ad he was voicing? This is all over the Internet now as evidence of Welles' mercurial theater on the air temperament, but to me it sounds like he's the only one who's making any sense. In July? WTF?
3:18 a.m., Coordinated mcarp time. Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick bong bong bong bong BONGGGGG tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick.
3 comments:
Amen.I got a severe dose of those people's medicine last year that has left me unemployed, feeling betrayed, and re-evaluating my naivite regarding ignorant sloths. There's no where safe from those who are incapable or unwilling to think, but if you find that place, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze take Bucky and me with you. Bucky's a dog and I have documents to prove my distemper.
Ever been to Nicoma Park?
California, I'm telling you. We turn back the unimaginative ones at the border. Ever been to Bolinas? Marin County? Got your name written all over it. Petaluma's nice, too.
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