Sunday, July 13, 2003

I just watched Adaptation for the first time with my dad. It's sinking in. I'm down at my parents house because we visited my grandparents today and I'm going to the dentist tomorrow, so it's saving me some time in the morning. I should be getting more sleep this way...but I'm up and I'm writing and I'm wide awake. This moment, this very moment is a scene in the movie script of my life that I'm forever developing in my mind. Adaptation fit me well. I really enjoyed that movie. I'm sweating right now. It's humid, well humid for California. It's just summertime hot in the office of my parents house. Normally I'd listen to the handful of songs I have downloaded on this computer, but instead the menu music of the Adaptation DVD is playing in the background, eminating from the family room into the office. I'm thirsty. I'd love a Snapple Raspberry Iced Tea. But we're out. And it's late. And I don't want to move from this seat or stop my fingers from moving.

I'm completely motionless except the blinking of my eyes and the movement of my fingers. I wasn't even breathing until I realized that I wasn't even breathing. The feeling is now fading upon recognition, but I was in that state of being where you feel as though you're about to tip over despite remaining stationary. Maybe it's a bloodflow thing - your brain playing tricks on you from in a state of lessened blood due to your lack of movement. All I know is that in those 14 or so times that it's ever happened to me, I feel more self-aware then I could ever imagine.

I'm online right now. I'm using the screen name I use when I'm at a different computer and I'm still online at my computer, or if I don't want to talk to someone. I'm not online back at my house, and this upsets me. Now I've lost all of the potential messages that people could have sent me. Yes I have DeadAIM, the thing that logs all of my IM conversations, but hunting through that to see who may have IMed me is not worth the effort. Driving two days ago it occured to me that we have a new state of being, and that's being online. I can be present while not being present. This whole internet thing is infecting. Internet technology is not even geek chic anymore, it's....normal. Talking about IMing and e-mailing and blogging and all of this other shit that was obscure 4 years ago, is now ubiquitous. It will be fascinating to look back on "the early days of the internet" 50 years from now. I think the world will become very, very, very small very, very, very soon.




For some reason a Gomez song, and I don't even know which one, is pumping in my head. And only the intro of it. A heavy, slightly digital, gyrating bassline. I can't get it out. Paired with the Adaptation music in the background, the hum of the computer, the lonely singing of a confused bird who doesn't know that the sun has gone down, and the chattering of the keys as I press them in and out of sync, there's a.....I don't know what I was trying to say there other than how mismatched the sounds are right now. Or just to paint a picture.


I'm really hot. I'm sweating. I don't like sweating when I'm sitting still. At 11:45 at night. I'm getting anxious to fall asleep in the new king size bed in the air-conditioned guest room that was my bedroom of 17 years until 5 weeks ago. I'm getting even more anxious to take that air-conditioner back to my room at my house and smell the cool air in my room mixed with incense and candles on a nightly basis. I'm really really anxious for that. Cold air puts me at ease.

For being 22 years and 5 days old, I spend too much of my time being tired. I need more exercise. I remember the last time I was this tired this often, and I didn't ever want to be there again. So fuck this, I'm not staying. I'm going to bed. That's a start.