Thursday, October 24, 2002

stuff you could collect

"Wherever there is a flat surface, someone will find something to put on it."
Col. Lawrence Ballweg, Quoted in a Book on Borders Bargain Table that I didn't buy

My Euros are coming. So I'm staying home waiting for the courier. I should be packing. I should be putting stuff in the car to take to the thrift store. I should be writing. I should be reading the newspaper. But I watch a part of a documentary. It is this politically-charged Hollywood-liberal Robert Downey, Jr. thing. That guy is a great actor, but he isn't a great thinker. Maybe it's the drugs. Sean Penn is thrown in there, too. Hollywood. Weird place. Sean talks about making the world a better place for his sixteen-month-old kid...while smoking a cigarette. Um, OK.

What moves the plot? Not of the documentary. Of life. Death, snipers, plots, hostages, sexual abuse. Fraud maybe. A little baseball in October. That's the front page toda.y. More or less.

I decide to work out, then shower, then queue up for a haircut. I decide that if I can't get a haircut today, (tomorrow is out...the barber takes appointments and is full up) then maybe I just will go to Berlin without one. Don't need it that bad. I've decided that my car's oil change can wait until I get back. Dental cleaning, too, although I've made an appointment for that. Retired people fill their days with errands. Extra trips to the grocery. Worrying the details. Someone has to do it. Or do they?

The FedEx comes with my Euros. They are in this 'tamper proof bag. All there, of course. This is my first Euro trip.

My workout is a little shorter than usual. I am in a panic for some reason. I guess with no real pressure on me I'm creating it from within. That will pass. Anyway, I do twenty minutes on the stationary bike and some arm exercises.

I go home and shower and go get a haircut. Jane is just finishing up somebody and I get right in after him and get it done. Nice to go on a trip with a fresh haircut.

I go across the street to the HEB and wander around. Trying to decide what's cheaper here, what products they have that I might need to buy at some point. I pick up some Lemon Pepper seasoning, some all fruit spread for FFP and some energy bars and sandwich cracker snacks to take along on the trip in case of delays. It's pouring rain outside.

The rain makes me want to stay inside and read. For some reason, I don't want to pack although I've cleared the space to do it. I watch a little TV and read the newspaper. The rain sort of stops. I should make a trip to the thrift store with a load of stuff but I decide that it is enough that I have sorted out the stuff. I feel that I'm becoming reclusive, sinking into myself. I love the freedom and fear that I will be a failure at being free. I also fear that I'm turning into a 'whine without reason' person. No, I definitely am!

The rain continues to make me want to stay inside and read. For some reason, I don't want to pack. Not yet.

I watch part of the Jim Jarmusch movies Stranger Than Paradise and Mystery Train. I get through all the papers. I see a picture of someone I know in one of the sections of The New York Times. There's something about Jarmusch movies that make you feel insane and yet saner than any of the characters in the movies.

I read and snack. Then SuRu and I go over to the club and meet FFP coming out and we all go up to the grill and eat. I eat too much. I drink a martini. Yeah, with gin. SuRu and I talk.

At home, I read newspapers while FFP watches Survivor. I hate the program. Then there are better shows...CSI and stuff. But I'm dozing.

JUST TYPING
Fill your calendar.
Mark it in.
Work can do it so easily.
Nine to five, eight-thirty to five-thirty, a few lunches.
Five days a week.
Fill your brain.
Stack it up.
Work can do it.
So easily.
Non-stop.