Work Diary 8/13/04

Work Diary, 8/13/04

1. It's Friday the 13th. I like that, the little thrill it gives me
putting those words together. Nothing will come of it, of course. I've
had a perfectly fine 13th: Quick workday; lunch with a couple of
employees while the boss is on vacation; shopping for birthday gifts. I
watched a movie last night - something about con men who ultimately
kick a redhead (bad luck) out of their group because she walks into the
house wearing a scarf with a bird motif (also bad luck) - and it got me
to thinking. Was life really that much simpler when omens tweaked and
fiddled with everyday living? In Earth B.C., was spilling salt enough
to send grandma into the hemp field to die, or did everyone pay lip
service to the whole process and call it a day? Yes, yes, I know: All
questions that have been regurgitated in Philosophy 101 since Earth
A.D. But it's a good starting point. Sometimes I think "back to the
basics" isn't just a corporate business ideal. Wouldn't it be fun to
fall blank-silly into our own childhoods, when spilt salt, broken
mirrors, and black cats made us squeal in terrified delight while we
ran and ran and ran?

2. On that cheery note: People are not stupid. We are ruined daily by
panic culture, reacting to the latest alert level while asking
ourselves, "Hunh?" It's laziness, isn't it? I remember speeding down
the freeway on September 11th, in tears and desperate to get home
because I thought my boyfriend was at risk for working in one of
Denver's tallest high rises. A reasonable fear at the moment but a fear
that didn't extend to our everyday lives. "A life lived in fear is a
life half-lived," says the heroine of my favorite movie. She's right,
you know. Teenagers intuitively know the absurdity of this fear, which
is probably why their insurance rates are so high: They recognize it
and rebel accordingly. What else can they rebel against in our
super-info-touchpad-this-way-to-the-latest-atrocity life? If you've
seen it all, what's left but a sarcastic remark and a James Deanian
draw on a cigarette? Panic culture - which my current presidential
administration appears to adore - can only lead to more nonchalance.
Though maybe that's what they want: Pretend to fit in. That's right:
Widen your eyes, part your lips. Listen carefully. Are you asleep? Wake
up! I'm trying to tell you we will take care of you.

3. On a cheerier note: Hurricane Charley is hitting Florida. Poor
penile Florida, always getting the short end of the stick. It's a
swampish place, full of humid pockets and human pickpockets and humble
salt-of-the-earth pockmarked people. Like most states in the US, it's
too big to define. But I love it. I'd live there if given the chance.
Imagine sending your dog out at night to go poo, wondering if an
alligator has crept up to turn old Fido into fertilizer. Imagine
strolling along the beach, only to come upon a Cuban wrapped around an
inner tube. Imagine nothing but flat gray sea and a cozy,
air-conditioned bar behind you. Ah. I am dying - well, not really
dying; that's just a phrase to induce a bit of fear in you - to see if
Bush pulls off Florida this year. If he does?oh, what a coup. And what
a shame.

4. I'd give my eyeteeth to see Hillary Clinton in the White House. Or
is it "Hilary," with one "l?" See how much I know?

5. I'm tired. The New Jersey governor just came out of the closet and
resigned accordingly. I say "accordingly" because he's married, has
kids, and where can he go? Folks are gonna latch onto that one like
white on rice: The degradation, the sickness, the lies. They'll ignore
what led a reasonable person - who happens to be gay - to marry and
have kids in the first place. It's not so much a vicious circle as a
loop-de-loop: I marry, therefore I am (straight) (acceptable) (okay in
the eyes of the lord) (vindicated) (fill in the blank). It's
depressing. Though, really, I'm trying to figure out how the kids came
into the picture. Gays - consciously or sub-consciously - will be up in
arms. "You've come a long way, baby" is sure to be replaced by "You've
come in the wrong place, girl."

6. Men are pigs sometimes. Gay or straight, the old testicular bubble
comes to the surface and we just grin and grin as it pops and
stinkifies the entire room. But we're pretty cool, too. I love the
relationships I have with my straight male friends. I can vomit at
their feet, wreck their cars, and make obscene gestures at their
girlfriends (perhaps all at the same time) and they will still call and
ask me if I want to go see "Stepford Wives" because that Nicole Kidman
chick is hot. I can tell the old joke about the whore and a donkey in a
Tijuana nightclub while their mother-in-laws are three feet away, and
they won't stop me out of pure fear that I will start talking louder,
God bless 'em.

7. Note to self: Further explore piggish super ego. Quit telling that
terrible Tijuana joke. Refrain from calling George Bush the anti-christ
while speaking on office phone.

8. I'm becoming Bridget Jones, or have already. Sigh.