Stare.
 
2005 Notebook: Weak VIII
 
   
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20 February 2005
No. 5,375 (cartoon)
I wish I was dead.

All your dreams will come true.

21 February 2005
And Now Linda
Linda called this morning and told me that she has cancer. I wasn’t surprised, and not only because she’s smoked tobacco for decades. Everyone’s getting cancer or some damn disease.

And that’s one of the many reasons I enjoy my bicycle. A quick death after being mangled by a speeding truck seems like a preferable alternative to a slow death punctuated by rounds of radiation and chemotherapy.

22 February 2005
Lovesickness
Until the eighteenth century, lovesickness was regarded as a known medical problem. Frank Tallis, writing in a recent issue of The Psychologist, points out that that the potentially fatal ailment should once again be regarded as an illness.

“Many people are referred for help who cannot cope with the intensity of love, have been destabilised by falling in love, or who suffer on account of their love being unrequited,” Tallis reports.

The clinical psychologist notes that the lovesickness may manifest itself as mania, obsessive compulsive behavior, depression, and suicide. To me, lovesickness sounds like a polite name for Bad Lover Syndrome. That’s just speculation, though, since I’ve never been one or had one. In any case, falling in love is one of those risks that’s always worth taking.

23 February 2005
Electrifying Drinking
I went to an opening tonight for an exhibit that trashed the amount of trash Americans generate. I didn’t care much for the work, but I did appreciate the cheap irony of drinking wine from a paper cup. It’s like Samuel Goldwyn said, “If you want to send a message, use Western Union.”

I did, however, enjoy one quote I saw silkscreened on the wall.

    The energy saved from recycling a single aluminum can will run your television or computer for three hours.

I figure that since I drink at least a pint of Rainier Ale every three hours while I’m working on my computer, I’m actually generating electricity! I never thought of myself as an environmental writer, but I suppose I am.

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24 February 2005
A Negative Memory
And upon a time, Paul and Michael inadvertently burned some of my negatives during one of their fiery arguments. Today, I pulled the blob of charred plastic out of storage in order to see if I could find any salvageable images inside.

After meticulously cutting through the layers of melted plastic and gelatin, I found a negative of Paul and me together onstage at an arts event we created. The image is somewhat distorted by the fire, which I find a bit ironic since Paul and Michael froze to death in the Sierra.

25 February 2005
Jellied Zombies Before Dawn
It’s just after five in the morning, and I’m on the first train to the airport. The twenty-some other people in the subway car appear to be jellied zombies; their heads are bobbing back and forth as the carriage jerks through the curves. I couldn’t really describe them as the walking dead, though, since they’re just sitting there, comatose.

I only get up this early about once or twice a year, and only to catch a cheap flight. Some people do this every day; that’s just crazy.

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©2005 David Glenn Rinehart