H: 4/16/03

Work Diary, 4/16/03

I'm at a loss, so:

1. I just realized, while passing a co-worker, that I think Brut
aftershave is sexy. My co-worker, all three hundred pounds of him,
isn't particularly sexy, but he certainly smells the part. Finding Brut
sexy says a lot about my formative years: plastic bottle; overpowering;
ugly green color; cheap. But also I like the sheer, disturbingly stinky
maleness of Brut. A woman wouldn't wear it and, in fact, its use is
typically limited to the more blue-collar American man. Does that mean
I prefer a certain type after all?

2. Oh, the irony: "Operation Iraqi Freedom" is all about freeing the
Iraqi people from Hussein's nasty grip, right? So, like, dude, they can
rule themselves and stuff? Why, then, were all of the oil fields
secured while three thousand years of Iraqi culture was plundered and
looted from museums? Isn't an occupying force supposed to guarantee
that sort of thing doesn't happen? Or is culture-cide part of the
Master Plan? The development of American interests in Iraq will go far
more smoothly, I guess, without that pesky Iraqi past.

3. Yoga Update: The other day I was looking at the man on the cover of
the Yoga DVD. He has really thick ankles and flat feet. This is now my
excuse for not doing it. Also I think the Beagle may have peed on the
mat. It stunk before but now it stinks even more. I can hardly blame
her, can I? I'd like to do worse to the stupid thing.

4. In the interest of not smelling like pesticides (or so my partner
says), I have switched cigarette brands. I smoked my last Camel Light
yesterday and have moved on to American Spirits, which promise to be
chemical-additive-free. They also do not contain reconstituted sheet
tobacco (what the hell does that mean, anyway?) or processed stems. The
package features an Indian chief smoking a peace pipe against a yellow
sun. Along the bottom is a blocky Mayan pattern the color of dried
blood. The cigarettes themselves take forever to smoke and a
substantial pull to get the smoke flowing; I can feel the wrinkles
developing around my mouth already. So far I don't feel any healthier
and, in fact, each smoke break leaves me a bit nauseous. See what I do
for love?

5. Last night, as I sat in front of my laptop, it occurred to me that
I'm afraid of my novel. It seems to be taking on a life of its own,
especially now that I've chosen new names for the characters. Right now
I'm reading a book about all of these horrible people and their
children, the type of people I'd never want to meet, and I'm enjoying
the oft-ignored distance the reader enjoys from a story's characters.
But not so with my own book, where every sentence reminds me of
something terrible. Plus I need to tweak the plot some more. Actually,
I need to change it altogether. I wouldn't want to read another book
about incest myself, so why force it on others? Argh, so much work.