2003-03-06 - 1:43 p.m.
All I have to say is, thank whatever powers that be for John Bremer. Johnny's arrival last night was almost like some form of divine intervention on my behalf. Someone's watching out for me, even though I can say for damn sure it's not me, and having a good buddy around was exactly what I needed most last night.
Last night, John and I came to a conclusion (well, several, actually, but this is the one I can remember)- eating vodka-jello (or is that Jell-O? What-fucking-ever) is the Special Olympics of drinking.
That wasn't very polite. I'm in trouble now...
In other news, I was given the satisfaction of knowing that Matt (the little weasel assclown who took my part in the show) sucked a massive pile of ass, proving that the show needed me more than I needed it. I cannot begin to describe to you the deep professional sense of satisfaction and ego that comes with that knowledge. You have to either experience it for yourself or be left wondering what it's really like.
Of course, for every time something that massively good happens, I make sure to compensate by royally fucking something up, just to make sure i'm on an even keel here.
When I was in Madison three weeks ago, I bought a new Bill Hicks CD. Yes, you read that right. Apparently, his estate is going through his archives of
shows that he taped himself, and culling from them new material for cds. The new CD is called "LoveLaughterandTruth." It's only 45 minutes long, but there are no bits on it that appear on any of his other released material, and as Wej sagely pointed out to me, 45 minutes of new Bill Hicks is infinitely better than no new Bill Hicks. There's also a cd out called Flying Saucer Tour vol.1, which is apparently a show he did in pittsburgh. One show, start to finish. I'm looking for that one.
Do I dare? Do I dare disturb the universe?/In a minute there is time for decisions which a minute will reverse.
T.S. Eliot taught me that poetry doesn't all have to suck.
And indeed, there will be time
for the yellow smoke that creeps along the street
and rubs it's back upon the window-panes
There will be time, there will be time
to prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet
To to destroy, and time to create
and time for all the works and days of hands
that lift and drop a question on your plate
time for you, and time for me
and time for a hundred indecisions
and for a hundred visions and revisions
before the taking of a toast and tea
I'm paraphrasing a little, because my memory is a bit shaky, but you get the idea.
Ken
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