December 9th, 2005


I want to be Norman Paperman. . .

A combination of the snow and reading the first 72 pages of Don't Stop the Carnival is dangerous alchemy in me, I think.

I caught myself re-reading a short musing of mine this morning, without realizing what I was doing. I just navigated to the page when I logged in this morning, and stared at it, picking out pieces and smiling.

"Making folks happy, that's what I'll do,
Sunshine and sea air, palm trees, martinis,
That's what I yearn for, like you, you and you. . .
Just give me some time and I'll make it come true. . ."

That little essay is pretty accurate today, still.

I slid onto another essay, one with a similar voice, about stars, and I realized that I had something to add to it, but it, too, rang true as I read it.

It's time to slow down. I'm not getting anywhere with project A, so I'm going to drop it if it gets no favourable response over the weekend. I'm a bit too wide-spread, as it stands. It seems that I've lost some core focus in the past 4 months. I'm getting it back, slowly but surely, as I work things through on my own. Walking With Fire helped immensely with that.

"I think I've got a touch of Island Fever,
I do believe I feel a bit sauteed.
This morning I was just some non-believer;
Tonight I feel I've joined a wild crusade. . ."

There are more important things in life than what I'm doing right now. I think I'm going to cook up some Margaritas and get some salt tomorrow. There's a hammock calling me. Damn the snow, I'm going to put my Hawaiian shirt on, kick off my shoes, and sip drinks in my back yard tomorrow. I might throw in I Sailed to Tahiti With an All-Girl Crew. . . I could use some Gardner McKay. I wish Adventures in Paradise was out on DVD, because that would be the marathon of choice, I think.

I need some me-time. And I need it for me. Something tells me that a few other people need it for me, too, but I wouldn't know anything about that. I do know one thing, though: I owe some things to my friends and to my Grove that I've simply not given, and that's painful to me. I want to fix that.

"I think I'll take my shoes off and go walking. . ."

"Jimmy, there's still so much to be done. . ."

There should be an update today about WWF, but no promises. . . I didn't quite finish it last night, and writing LJ entries at work is rare, even though I post a bunch here.

On suicide. . .

Dear friends:

If you submitted an email to me via the CGI email form on my website on Nov. 10, 2005, stating that you were going to commit suicide as a joke, you'd do well to let me know who you are before I find out through other channels. Just because you can make a post anonymously and scare the shit out of me does not mean you should.

It is not funny. I am not laughing. I will be much more forgiving if I hear it from you than if I hear it from my webhost.

If it was not a joke, and you didn't go through with it, please, please let me know and I swear to all the Gods I know that I'll get you some help, won't pass judgement, and will be there for you. All you have to do is ask. You know how to get ahold of me.