I find that horoscopes are entertaining, mostly.
Tonight, life is supposedly going to become a whole lot more interesting.
I’m also supposed to stop thinking negatively, since thought becomes reality.
Personally, I just want to go to sleep for a long time. Rip Van Winkle would be proud.
km
Is the silence of
this momentary lapse
what I used to see in
you when I was young?
Are we any nearer
to that far place where
me and you became us
now that you can sleep?
Tear my eyes away
from the endless pavement –
another hypnotic moment.
I’ve forgotten what she meant to me.
…i want to see more stars than this…
Is the screaming of
this painful bleeding
what you felt when
I could not stop?
Am I any closer
to that far place where
you and I became one
now that I’m awake?
Tear your eyes away
for one endless moment –
let me bleed in peace.
I’ve forgotten what she meant to me.
there are promises
scattered among half-truths and shadows
there are noises in my head
but everything’s fallen behind
-km
I would like to point out, however, that saving the world is not the only
conditon of heroism. There are many heroic acts that are not so grandiose,
but are truly brave and great in their own right. And there are people out
there who notice those who perform those acts and consider them very much
heroes. I think you have everything you need inside of you to be a hero and
I don’t think that you have to fuck it up either. Stop trying to perpetuate
that prophesy of failure you have established for yourself.
-MRB, 3/16/03
Where have you gone
My love
My friend
Somewhere without the rain
I feel afraid now
I feel alone
We will meet again
Can you recall what we once knew
Somewhere without the pain
I feel afraid now
But not alone
We will meet again
I can’t hear your voice
But you know I feel your soul
I can’t hear your voice
But you know I feel your soul
Where have you gone
My love
My friend
Somewhere without any pain
I’m not afraid
Now I’m not alone
We will meet again
� 2000 VAST — “We Will Meet Again” from Music For People
RIP Cassidy, June 1996 – November 3, 2002
Real Time
More than 200 years ago Benjamin Franklin coined the now famous dictum that equated passing minutes and hours with shillings and pounds. The new millennium–and the decades leading up to it–has given his words their real meaning. Time has become to the 21st century what fossil fuels and precious metals were to previous epochs. Constantly measured and priced, this vital raw material continues to spur the growth of economies built on a foundation of terabytes and gigabits per second.
There comes a certain point in time when you reach That Certain Age. You know the age I’m talking about– I’m talking about the age where you’re officially Too Old To Be At A Rock Show. It’s sad and embarrassing for the rest of us to see; I think you know it, too. I think you know that we know because of the caution with which you enter the club; the desperation with which scan the crowd from side to side in search of your other golf buddies; and then the temerity with which you quickly cluster together around a pitcher of light beer or six, a real Beercan Superman watching all the Freshman Hotties come by in their endless streams of panties and perfume and you think that you cannot be seen by us. We know you as you know you: Your thinning pate. Your polo shirts. Your shorts, closer to your balls than to your knees.
Your full-time job.
We know you. We see you.
We hate you.
Embrace your oldness, fogey. Pucker up and smooch Old Man Middle-Age square on its mediocre mouth in the back of your airbagged minivan, because watching you bob and twitch like some sort of spastic insurance salesman makes our toes curl up into little foot-fists of shame.
SHAME, I say.
So I give this to you, people of Earth: Fraction’s Am I Too Old To Be At The Rock Show? Formula of Mathematical Certainty:
2x (x/5) = Too Old For The Rock Show
…where x = Age at which virginity was lost.
For those of you still young enough to rock, I say ROCK to thee and I shall see you at the Rock Show. And for you too Old for the Rock, I hear MAD ABOUT YOU is about to start.
For women, make that, oh, (X/2) or so. No Rock Show is complete with out a few Old Ass Rock Slags.
(Matt Fraction, Poplife, 8/28/02)
One month. Am I busy, or just a lazy fuck?
New Orleans came and went, as did the beginning of the whole affair with Jessica (ne Callis) McCord and Alan Bates. Weird as fuck. Should have written something more than a column about that. Or maybe not.
A new short story in the can (“Things Fall Away”) and another untitled AI story in progress. Thanks to Lou Anders for the jumpstart on the idea for that.
Filming in sixteen days and counting. Nerves begin now.
The purpose of this diary is still the same, but under a looser definition of “daily.” So blow me.
km
I have spent the last four days:
Redesigning Lunasect.com (25 man-hours clocked, and just getting started)
Being sick
Watching my wife be sick
Studying
Working
Plotting and planning
Worrying about the role of Father in GOODNIGHT MOON.
More watching the wife be sick.
Sleeping on the couch.
Reading comics.
Reading philosophy and software development texts.
Writing the column and comic reviews.
Wishing Melissa a Happy Valentine’s Day.
Going to bed and praying for this achy feeling to pass.
km
How much is too much?
Am I trying to do too many things with my life? Between the writing, film, music, computers, and whatever else I pick up and put down, am I splitting my attention too many ways?
It’s not like I have a whole lot else to do, of course…
A long night of nothing but laying on the couch, reading Ellis’ CITY OF SILENCE and Ryan & Lieber’s ME AND EDITH HEAD (great piece), and eating Chinese cuisine. And now this.
Blah.
km
Reconstruction is fun.
Spent the better part of seven hours “remixing” (i.e., reconstructing) ZERO and GOODNIGHT SATELLITE today. Very little left of the original tracks, and a whole lot of new stuff in each one (now and forever known in my house as ABSOLUT ZERO and SATELLITE (drums ‘n’ space mix)). I’m very happy with both, though they need to be mixed at Daniel’s; the ProTools mixing just does’t work very well at all, for the most part.
Made the news today, as the local NBC affiliate interviewed me as a film critic on the release of COLLATERAL DAMAGE. Does this mean I’ve made it?
I doubt it.
First exam of the last semester today. If I didn’t ace it, I’ll be amazed.
Not amused, though.
km