Don't know why, exactly,
but I have this hankering
today to not really say
anything meaningful, but
to nevertheless DOtty
up my ramblings with
meaningless typeset and
incongruous mark- up.
I am in no position,
not now, not never,
to knowingly comment on
and then dismiss all
manner of independent thought.
So my efforts at
trendiness & happenin'ness
and cuttin'edgedness
are sure to seem
hoarse and unseemly.
Well . . .
.
.
.
people GAZING WITH LONGING at me
on CU-SeeMe as I type these
but that I like the company
of disattached voyeurs
lingering in the
margins like
My first and
into the wake of
cultural events
whose consequences
and significance are
only beginning to be
neutralized by time.
But any time I start to
think that the Beatles
are being lost to the
past, then it happens
that Beatles songs
sound from everywhere.
All at once. As now.
when the Beatles ended
their association. My
family moved back to
the states, lived in
Washington D.C. for a
few years, then we
moved to Laos, where
we lived in Vientiane
for 2 years. There was
scant radio programming
in English except for
the records, and I
remember now hearing
them ask me time and
time again:
"How does it feel to be
beautiful people.
That is what the
Laotians told me.
It's what we few
Americans in Laos
at that time said
about each other,
with a
I knew nothing of
I remembered the
voices of two older
kids, one Laotian
and one Thai, saying
"Khoun Ngam" at me,
and then laughing
at my confusion
while repeating the
expression. (It's
Lao for "Beautiful
people." With grammar
like that I guess
the joke was on
them all along.)
they called me
that I never knew
what they were saying,
or what they meant;
I was too afraid
to ask any of my
teachers, fearing
that it may have
been an obscenity
(maybe it was),
and that I would
get in trouble
merely for having
heard it. It
always amazed me
to learn how much
trouble you can
get into with
people, and how
quietly a friendship
can be forgotten
when one person
simply exposes
themselves to the
things that
some parents
might find
two older kids
calling me on the
phone right this
second and shooting
"KHOUN NGAM" into
the phone and
transporting me back
21 years where,
as now, I have no
idea who they are,
where they are or
what they are doing,
or how I knew them
in the first
place.
after we returned
to the states I would
pick up the phone
and call Laos. No
one ever answered,
but I know I was
dialing the right
number, because I
wrote it down on a
Bazooka Joe gum
wrapper before we
left the country,
and at some time
I wrote it on a
chalkboard that
I had in my room,
and I dimly
remember a day
when the contents
of that chalkboard
were erased, and
I could say nothing,
because it would
have meant revealing
that I had been
calling Asia for
no God damn
reason.
remembering this at
this time. The
radio was playing
Dear Prudence when
I started typing.
When that song ended
I turned off the
radio and have since
typed in silence,
but with the company
of my fellow
CU-SeeMe rubberneckers
whose faces and
names float about
on the far
screen.
I'm at home now.
I was at the bookstore
and became envious of
a guy who was this
really pretty woman
who was begging him
to go back to her
place and play
Scrabble. How could
I help but be jealous?
Scrabble's my favorite
game, and playing
against computers is
a drag. I have a hard
time getting people
to believe that I
took a course in
Scrabble while at
Oberlin, and that
I failed. But you
have to believe me,
both those things are
true.
Charlie Brown book
tonight. I want to
eventually have the
entire set of
"Peanuts Classics,"
which appears to be
in several thousand
volumes. I will be
hopelessly lost when
the day comes that
I've read every single
Peanuts strip ever made.
There is so much to
read into some of them.
Schultz is a very
religious person, of
course, and that
inclination occasionally
surfaces in the strips,
either through Linus'
Bible-quotes-on-demand
or through his telling
worship of the Great
Pumpkin. Maybe all I've
really been looking for
has been the Great
Pumpkin, and I should
sit out in Central Park
right now and plant
Pumpkin Patches Forever.
I think Linus was gay,
and so was Peppermint
Patty. I have a book
somewhere around here
where Linus says
"I don't even like
little girls!"
Peppermint Patty's
whole deal about
"that kid with the
funny looking nose,"
I mean what the
fuck's that all
about?
always liked was
Nancy. I know
people who find
that impossible
to believe, but
once I tell them
that I failed a
course in Scrabble
(and Bridge, too),
I find that all
Nancy doubts
vanish.
virtually androgonous,
but still decidedly
feminine. Sluggo's just
a regular guy who
takes a lotta shit
from Nancy, and
Aunt Fritzi is just
something, I can't
say what because
I don't fucking
know.
the papers, too,
as of September,
although I don't
think I've seen
it in any Manhattan
papers. And the
funny thing is,
I've actually made
an effort to look
for it during the
past couple of
weeks, not knowing
until this
afternoon that
it was back
in syndication.
Isn't that
funny?
Baywatch pinball
machine, and finally
got a free ball.
Now I just gotta
get real good and
wait for David
Letterman to find
me in there and
thrust me into
the vapid world
of fame where all
my sirly ideals,
none of which I
have any idea
about right now,
will be sacrificed
and bludgeoned
with brutal
impunity.
hurts, and I am
avoiding work
right now. I'm
very disappointed
with the current
issue of Boardwatch
Magazine, but more
than that I wish
my headache would
go away and that
I could concentrate
on the matters at
hand, none of which
involve slaw at any
level.
at the Cosmic Coffee
Shop tonight, and
there was slaw on
the side. I didn't
ask for it, it was
just there, and I
was able to eat
what I needed to
eat, and read
several pages of
Charlie Brown strips,
which were just
precisely and
perfectly funny,
without facing that
lank, tepid Diner Slaw
that every American
has faced at one
time or another.
There were three
malcontent bank-tellers
sitting at the table
behind me, and they
all sounded angry as
hell but not about
anything in particular
except maybe their
salaries, a depressing
hourly wage which,
among them, they
shouted out no less
than a dozen
times.
to just sit here
all night and recount
each and every one
of my day's events,
I feel I must stop
at this time.
It's a crying, pitiful
shame, too, because
typing into a spiral
like this is strangely
addictive, and reminds
me of that feeling I
got from entering IRC
and plunging into its
miserable (to me)
depths. Well, no,
there were no depths,
were there? I guess
that is the source
of my disillusionment,
my bitterness, my
anger and righteous
paaaaaaaaaiin.
There are like 8
precious pearly words.
How to say it,slaw.
Beatles on the radio.
earliest living memory
is of learning that the
Beatles had disbanded,
and that certain of its
members would pursue
other opportunities.
All my life there's
been this
extraneous-seeming
idea that Ringo Starr
will now be making
movies.
at the time, and I am
sure that no one sat
me down and explained
the Beatles situation.
But I remember
knowing, and I know
that I was sad for some
reason, and that to
this day any mention
of the Beatles stirs
both excitement and
disappointment in me.
I feel I was born
I was living in Africa
one of the beautiful
people?"
I was one of the
the Manson murders,
or of his madness
for Beatles songs,
and for that lyric
in particular. I
knew that we were
lucky, and we were
special to be
Americans in Asia
when we were
there.
When I read the
For all the timesoffensive.
Now I imagine those
For several years
Don't know why I'm
11:32 PM
I bought a new
Another comic I
Nancy herself is
Nancy's back in
I played the
My head really
I had fish and chips
As much as I'd love
