More photographs

11:30
Dr. Bombay's Magic Secret Hideaway

Now Playing (in earphones): Greek Song by Rufus Wainwright. All the pearls of China fade astride a Volta...

That music here is again, the same as yesterday, from that same withering mix. As much as I love Billie and Louis, they sometimes seem like they're from a past life, anachronistically knocking on the door of the present. Well, Rufus can hear them knocking too. He's sitting on the couch, and he's telling me not to answer the fucking door. Okay, Rufus. You got it, bro.

Here's a picture I took of a little poison frog at the Dorothy Chapman Fuqua Conservatory at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens.



(S)he was tiny. The size, maybe, of the first knuckle of your thumb. And behind glass because, again, poison.


And since I'm on about photographs of poisonous animals, here's two more I took of Vlindinhauer's (ex-)cat, Aleister.




Okay, so Aleister wasn't poisonous, not in the strict sense of the word. But that doesn't matter, because he's gone, replaced (I know, not possible) by Willow, cat-wonder.

Aleister was very much his own cat. He was tolerant, but you knew not to push your luck. He'll be missed.

In other news, I've been in Fight Club mode again recently. I saw the Fight Club DVD commentary the other day with Fincher, Ed Norton, Brad Pitt, and HBC. HBC gets left out, in the boys' club atmosphere created by the other three.

I need to be careful because the last time I was in Fight Club mode, maybe two years ago, after I finished the book, I almost got myself into trouble. I was in my office, advising a student into the school of music, someone I'd never met before, when I decided to follow a sudden impulse and said to him 'I want you to hit me. As hard as you can.' Young kid. He looked at me like I was an insane person, then left.


~~~~~~~

4:47 PM

Did I mention about my flight back to Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson from Logan? It was rough. I thought the pilots were going to lose control of the plane and that we were going to plummet to our fiery doom, unidentifiable and charred, bones burned to cinders.

Of course, that's what I always think. But this time the captain came over the in-cabin speakers and told us we were going through 'heavy turbulence'. I actually swore to myself that I'd never fly again.

You want to know what's weird? Nobody else on the plane reacted while it was happening. The guy next to me was reading a book called 'Assassin'. Didn't take his eyes off the page. The kid diagonally up from me was playing solitaire on his iPod. While I'm in a blind white panic, trying to remember that it's stupid to make bargains with fate.

Some photographs

Some photographs for your viewing pleasure.

This is my neighborhood cat, Minnie. On my front porch last summer, just hanging around.



Minnie again, in the flowerpot outside my door.

'I weep for you,' the Walrus said. 'I deeply sympathize.'

9:14 AM
Dr. Bombay's

The music here is questionable. Not bad, just tired. It comes from this mix that repeats over and over, so that I've heard it all several times by now. So I'm listening to Low's The Great Destroyer on earphones. And the sky is threatening to let go, which is fine by me.

I haven't written anything in the past week and I'll tell you why. I haven't had internet at the Nunnery since The Great Best Buy Debacle of 2006. Like three months.

But last night I was out at, what's it called, Sidebar, with Rashid, Jason and Josh. I had 'just one' and then R and I went back to the Nunnery where he got me back online. Huzzah! R gifted me a modem he bought for $1.50 at a yard sale.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, 'But Sabitathica, why didn't you just post from work? Or anyplace else? Just because you have no internet at home (a tragedy, to be sure) doesn't mean you can't post at all, does it? I thought you were serious about this blog. What are you, a loser? Get it together! Loser.'

Okay. Everybody just relax. Chill out and I'll explain.

I work at a music school in Atlanta, where my job is, in a nutshell, to make sure that everything runs smoothly. Meaning, whenever students have problems, I fix them. And if you've ever known any music students, adorable, shiny things that they are, you know that they have problems *at least* as often as regular, non-music students. And since classes begin this coming Monday, this week was busy. Too busy to post. On top of which, someone hacked into my work computer yesterday, so IS&T cut me off from the network. So I wasn't able to get online (or do anything else, really) from 10:00 AM on.

So relax, cowboy. The important thing is, we're together now. Let's just try to enjoy it, what do you say?


~~~~~~~

9:46 AM

What I said about the sky earlier? About it being menacing and such? Not anymore. Now it's a sweet lazy blue, no clouds at all.

Inside the earphones is When I Go Deaf by Low. Outside the earphones, vying for a piece of my aural real estate, is Ray Charles, Georgia On My Mind.

Rashid and I were drinking Armagnac (hors d'age) last night after we got back to the Nunnery, a bottle I keep here for good friends.

The time had come (the walrus said) to talk of many things. Mostly about maximizing personal potential. R is writing a paper documenting his current situation, identifying his goals, and outlining his plan for attaining them. Rashid is one of the people who consistently make me feel more internally organized just from spending time with him.

Norah Jones is on the house system but she's being drowned out by London Calling, loud in my earphones.

New Year's Eve

2:30 am
South Shore

Once more into the breach at dear Vlindinhauer's. This time celebrating the (Gregorian) completion of 2006 and commencement of 2007.

There was a wonderful dinner, prepared by M, Vlindinhauer's wife, with help from Vlindinhauer himself. There were musical selections, including music made up on the spot, and karaoke.

After midnight, we sang Auld Lang Syne, toasted the New Year, and set off firecrackers on the other side of the sea wall. We read the grounds from our Turkish coffees. And we read the fortunes and wise sayings written on the gift-scrolls we each received with our entres.

Much, but not all of this, was documented. And there was a wonderful dinner.

This was my first time being present in a place where karaoke was occurring.

Lots of fun...


Resolutions for 2007:

Cease all current uranium enrichment.
Forgive those who enrich uranium against me.
Be less autistic.
Be kind.

Happy New Year!

The Eve of New Year's Eve

11:45 pm
South Shore

Now playing: Sam Prekop

Like I said, a well documented night last night. The evening's festivities were recorded by two video cameras. One, a Sony digital 8 (a DCR-TRV140) and the other a PureDigital, i can't remember the model. This, in addition to several cellphone video cameras and my digital still camera. And the built in video camera in my laptop. Do not underestimate how well-documented last night was.

We got up this morning at about 7:00, sat, etc. Then Vlindinhauer took his morning ablutions in the Atlantic. Swimming, briefly, just after sunrise, in Boston Bay in late December. It almost goes without saying but, we caught it on film. I considered joining him in the water, but I was fucking freezing as it was, fully dressed, just standing by the water, the PureDigital camera shaking in my hand, I was so cold.

Okay, so I'm kind of a pussy when it comes to the cold. But you know what? You would have been too. It was cold out there.

We drove, in more than one car, to the Pourhouse on, what's it called, Boylston Street. I ordered too much food.

Dropped Josh off someplace, then came back here to chat, catch up, etc.

Then it was off to the Largest Casino in the World.

Anyone who knows me can tell you that casinos are not Sabitathica's native environment. He is typically found in underlit rooms, with music playing, usually quietly. In fact, just last night I told those present that I've come to suspect that I've got mild, HF Asperger's. It was probably documented, me saying that, so there's proof somewhere if you don't believe me. In fact, me being autistic was a joke between me and Jessica. Actually, it was more of a joke between me and myself, with Jessica playing straight man. Actually, it wasn't really a joke.

If you ever needed to find Sabitathica, and you knew something of his habits, you probably wouldn't bother looking in a loud, chaotic place with flashing lights. And smoke. And people who are fixated on money.

But it turns out that's where you should have been looking, at least tonight. I was gambling and thinking about money. And talking to the people next to me about gambling and money, too.

As it happens, I lost more than I won, but not by much. The good thing about having Asperger's is that I don't fall into the standard-issue casino trance very easily.


~~~~~~~

1:15 am

Astral Weeks is playing now.

Have I mentioned that this album saved my life? In 1988. Swear to God. It will save your's too, if your's needs saving.

Okay, maybe I don't really have Asperger's. But it would explain some things if I did.

Nobody in Atlanta has ever heard of Van Morrison.

12:36 am
Winthrop

Who's here? Josh and Vlindinhauer and me. And, earlier, Vlindinhauer's wife, M. A well-documented evening.

Currently under discussion: The tragic, violent accident which would occur if we were to try to drive home tonight, back to the South Shore. There are many points of agreement. One of which is that the accident would involve a family of five, all of whom would be killed on impact. It was decided that the oldest boy in the family would be some sort of savant. His future would have brought him close to a cure for a major disease. And the middle daughter is the junior high slut.

I woke up here yesterday morning. Here's what the day looked like.



This is what I looked like.




Listening earlier to a bootleg of Pink Floyd from 1970. A very good night for the lads.

Listening now to Marvin Gaye. Mercy Mercy Me. Everyone else is asleep now, but my new fucking awesome laptop is serenading me with What's Going On.

I told the waitress at that Irish place earlier, Clery's, that she was the worst waitress I've ever had. Swear to god. You'd think she would be insulted, or put off by this. But she seemed to like it. Weirdo.

The more of a jerk I am to women, the more they can't stop purring at me. Freaks.

A quick example. A woman and a boy came over and sat at our couch the other night, mine and Josh's. It was Christmas night and we were at some place, just talking and catching up. As this woman and boy approached our couch, I loudly told Josh to 'get rid of them'. They both heard me, of course, and within one minute she was purring at me. How dumb is that?

She asked me if she could show me her breasts. She even offered me fellatio if I let her show me her breasts. You believe that? Christmas night. I told her 'That doesn't sound like a very good deal to me'. Of course, that just made her purr all the more, and she showed me her breasts anyway. Tramp.

But right now I'm listening to Van Morrison. It's about 1:20 am. Veedon Fleece. Linden Arden Stole the Highlights.

Nobody in Atlanta, the city I currently live in, has ever heard of Van Morrison. I don't know what fills the place in them that Van Morrison occupies in me, but I'm not too worried about it right now. I've been listening to Van Morrison a lot recently.

Come Here, My Love is playing. It is so fucking beautiful. I can't stand it. Beautiful the way Song to the Siren is beautiful, or Carry Me, Ohio. Or maybe Martha, My Dear, if you squint a little.

Irish-Ethiopian Beauty Salon

I'm at a beauty salon. I'm here with my dear Mother. She's getting her hair done and I'm her chauffeur.

I was at a salon yesterday too, on Tremont Street. Vlindinhauer and I walked in and, using an old Jedi mind trick, convinced the people inside to let him cut my hair.

In other news, Chuckles the Cat has been ill. We got her info back from the doctor. She's got hyperthyroidism and a liver disorder, both manageable.


~~~~~~~

4:45 pm

I'm at Clery's, an Irish bar on Central Street http://www.irishconnection.com/clerys.html

Josh lost his wallet or something. He just went back to the car to look for it.

We're waiting for Vlindinhauer to get available. He's near here, taking care of some business.

The plan is to eat Ethiopian in a bit.

Ha Hd Hr; Timfmb

Here I am. I'm at Vlindinhauer's. The Atlantic Ocean is here with me, outside the window.

I'm in Winthrop, Massachusetts, in front of the ocean, next to a Christmas tree, and I'm beginning this blog.

Lots of music tonight. Prerecorded music, made up on the spot music, even some Opeth. Later, there was more Opeth as the soundrack to two new films we watched. The films were called

Fuct Up Heavy Metal Carpentry and
Fuct Up Heavy Metal Plumbing.

And we watched a third film, called The Urban Walk Society: To, From, and Around Deer Island.