BummerMan Weekend
My knee hurts. It's been over a week. I still can't run or jump or skip or be merry, like all the other little lambs. I have a new tennis racket that I can't use. I probably won't be able to play basketball for the second straight week.
I got an email from an old friend Tarjan, which reminded me of Garrett, which depresses me... since Garrett isn't my friend anymore, which is one of the sadder facts in my life. Writing to Tarjan also reminded me of Ivy, another person with whom I no longer have any contact. Tragedy abounds.
I went to see a movie, to escape my blues. I saw Shoot 'Em Up, hoping for escapist entertainment. Instead, I got the worst movie I have ever seen. Yes, it was worse than Crash. It should win every Razzie award this year. I'm depressed that I wasn't proactive enough to actually walk out of the theater.
But Soapy loved it, which confirms that I have nothing in common with my friends. Which makes me feel even more alienated.
And then I went to Vashon Island, in order to surround myself with beautiful Washingtonian nature. Vashon Island sucks. I've never seen an uglier less inviting patch of rural west coast.
And I have a lot of laundry to do.
Labels: Dear Diary, LOL, Movies
posted by John @ 10:52 AM
9 comments
9 Comments:
I've been on the wire this morning to my domestic and international contacts, and the word on the street is that a murky depression seems to be settling over the globe (or at least Seattle, Wichita and Brussels). Maybe it's the sudden descent of fall weather--pulling out the umbrellas and itchy scarves while putting badminton in the park and picnics into storage for the winter. Maybe it's the planetary alignments. Maybe it's the drinking water. We can't say for sure.
But a glimmer of hope is at hand. I will be in my lab this afternoon working on a top secret antidote. For security reasons, I can't give you the exact formula, but I can tell you that it involves vegetable stock, tomatoes, kale and a well-worn soup pot. Sadly, this elixir has no known knee-healing properties, but it has shown promise in the area of staving off the Seattle blues. Only time will tell folks, only time will tell...
As a former permanent resident alien, fear not the alienation, my friend. You are not alone.
ZZRQZ
Oh no! Bummer man is back!! Focusing on the positive and the beauty around you may help a bit, a lot ... may be not...
Carole
When you're chewing on life's gristle, don't grumble - give a whistle!
For Bummerman:
Click on... Puppies!
Love,
Otis
Hold on! The Bob Dylan movie is coming out in a few weeks, and word is that it is worth living for. ~pam
Soapy is renown for his lack of taste, no? Don't stress that. You may not have much in common with me, but I think you'll find that in not having much in common, we have oh so much in common...
And when all else fails, I can offer to take you out in Dublin and get you rip-roaring blotto when you just can't face it anymore. However, that's a pretty depressing prospect.
I'd go with O's remedy. It sounds pretty feckin good. In fact you should count yourself pretty feckin lucky you ungrateful schmuck!!!
I think that runs the gambit.
"Soapy is renown for his lack of taste, no?" Well duh. Why do you think I saw "300" seven times? Why do you think I have a MySpace page?? Why do you think I'm John's friend???
John, John, John... You and I have plenty in common. We're both pale, caucasian-looking people. We're both handsome. And we like popcorn. We LOVE popcorn. I mean even if neither of us is hungry we still scarf that mess down.
If I had to give you some serious sentences about all this... I think we both spend a lot of time wondering why the heck we're alive, we find no answers, and we respond to this confusion and desolation by being inappropriate. We've both admitted to secretly wishing someone, anyone, would give us a mission... or an excuse to fight them... but in the meantime we rely on non-lethal methods of lashing out to keep ourselves satisfied.
So join me in a confusing round of R.C. and Boggle at the Deluxe, so I can spit my gum in your face when you call "paner" the weakest word in the history of the game.
Shoot 'em up was bad. I can forgive someone like Clive Owen for participating in such trash (just trying to make a buck as a hollywood B level star), but I hold Paul Giamatti to a higher standard. Good indy film guys like him aren't suppose to sell out like that.
Being hurt sucks. Always has been. Always will be. Things will get better. Find something active that doesn't hurt your knee...
-A
Post a Comment
<< Home