I like placing the word beautiful before any word that has a negative, sad, or a meaning opposite from the word beautiful. Example: beautiful destruction, beautiful violence (one of my favs), and beautiful failure. It makes the verbs sound like an artist in the middle of a creation. Beautiful failure is my constant project. This semester could very well be my masterpiece. With my pride in one hand, I walked balls first, brains last, into over extending myself. Right now I am the fish at the end of the Faith No More video for the song EPIC. I’ll wiggle my way to safety, but not with out causing myself pain(beautiful destruction).
My brother put it best, while we discussed an error he was beating himself up over. “We run a race, but don’t try too hard for a while and then all of the sudden we think, hey I’m in a race. Then we bust our asses till we finish.” The race I am running, I lost long ago, but I am busting my ass to finish. This is my beautiful failure. In my need to finish, I have ignored my own limits. This is my art. I am struggling to make through this semester. This could be my masterpiece.
Back to the books.
Thursday, November 04, 2004 Back to work
I have only been at work for 30 mintues, and so far I have explained what an I-Pod is, settled a bet which was "are there 50 states or 51", told a few people what time we close, and helped a kid with his math home work. It's great to get back to the "usual" line of questions and no more of those voting questions.
Monday, November 01, 2004 Detox
It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m watching 13 Conversations About One Thing, when I hear a light banging on my screen door. I thought it was my neighbor’s cat, so I did not get up right away. The banging continued so I thought I check on the little guy. I was surprised to see my mom standing at the door. She had tried to call me several times, but I turned off my phone earlier that day when I went to see Ray and I just forgot to turn it back on. My father was making a 3+ point turn, in the small parking lot behind my apartment. Mom handed me some mail and asked if I wanted to join them for dinner. I put on my shoes and the three of us went to the Penguin. That was Dad’s suggestion. I began to tell them about my weekend.
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James picked my up around noon Friday and we went to the Penguin for Lunch. Then we helped deliver coats to a local charity. Friday night, I got polluted.
Saturday Jonny and I went down to the USC v. Tenn game, more drinking. I slept the entire way back to Charlotte. Jonny and I cleaned my apartment, then we went out to the Penguin for more drinks and some food. We saw lots of people in costumes there, but went uptown for more entertainment and drinking.
Sunday Jonny and I went for coffee and then picked up a few things for breakfast. I cook a ton of bacon, scrabled eggs and cinnamon rolls, and James joined us for the feast. After breakfast, Jonny went home. James and I went to see the movie Ray. After the movie I started my detox from the weekend. Self-prescribed: two 32oz glasses of water and ½ cup of dried apricots. I started to watch 13 Conversations About One Thing.
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While I was telling my folks all of this a couple had come into the Penguin and sat at the bar. The guy was in “normal” clothes but the girl had a schoolgirl outfit with a leather jacket. When she took offer her jacket to sit-down I realized that she was not wearing a schoolgirl out fit, but rather just a short shirt and body paint, painted to look like a schoolgirl top. I think she must have been a bit cold. Mom and dad enjoyed the meal and the show. They dropped me off, and I finished my movie. About 10 minutes after the movie my prescription kicked in.
