Mostly Blather

I have a brilliant idea for a screenplay, if only I had the wit, discipline, patience, and stamina to write it.  A man has regrets about choices he made in his past and seeks to rectify them via time travel (like, he finds a machine, or steals one, or maybe he signs up as a volunteer for the testing, or maybe he just helps a gypsy change a tire and she’s really grateful…see, this is where it gets really hard and I’d rather go watch television and have a snack), and he seeks to accomplish things he failed the first time around (a career in the United States Navy, say, or managing not to become a felon, or maybe writing a screenplay).  Here’s the gimmick: he has to fix all the wrong turns he’d taken while preserving the life he has in the present.  That means he has to keep going backward and forward to check his progress and correct the missteps he’s inadvertently causing  in his quest to tie up all loose ends.  He must finesse events so that all the bad judgements he made and crimes he perpetrated are erased without screwing up his future present (ay-yi-yi).  This is what makes my story unique, see; no altering his present life, because his life now is how he wants it.  No vengeful righting of wrongs done by some villain, just the protagonist attempting to swab his own decks.  No tragedy for which he feels responsible and feels compelled to prevent, unless you count the many disappointments with which he’s laden his friends and family as he’s blundered his way through his own life and theirs.  Does/did, had/has; cripes, just writing the thing down has me dithering over tenses.

No, I don’t think this sounds like The Butterfly Effect at all.  Was that a good movie?  I haven’t seen it.  At least my idea uses a time machine.  Or a gypsy.  My gypsy would be CGI.

Have I stated that I love getting up before dawn?  On weekdays I rise from bed at 4am and on the weekends by at least 5.  I started doing it because it was difficult to fit gym visits into the after-work hours, but I’ve come to love this time of morning.  Actually I always have, but now I’m appreciating it as I stretch and start the coffee and fire up the pc, instead of getting up from the keyboard and shuffling off to bed.  Yup, on weekends I used to stay up all night, then collapse into bed and sleep until nearly noon.  That’s Saturday and Sunday, half of both days shot, and I got to carry around a screaming yawn in the back of my throat the rest of the day.  I blame that scourge of the playground, the one that your parents and teachers begged you to avoid, the World Wide Web.  I must admit I’m an addict.  The Interweb, she is like the woo-mon who leads you down the alley and then streeps you of your self-respect as she shows you feelthy peectures of Alyssa Milano.  Yeah, okay, I’ll knock it off.

Speaking (typing) of the Internet, in my rambling travels through the ether I found a website called the zinester’s guide to portland (no caps; does anybody besides me freakin’ bother anymore?) that allows you to find stuff around town via catagories, complete with clickable maps and reviews.  You could spend hours on this thing.  Cheggidoot.  I probably found it by way of surfing bicycles websites, but surfing for me is so stream-of-consciousness that I can’t be certain.  Maybe I was on Wikipedia.  I spend a lot of time on Wikipedia.  Actually I’m on it right now.  No, it’s not my sole research site, I always cross-reference ma, jeez.  It is the first stop, however, and it’s like walking into the library without a specific book in mind.  This also explains the barely-catagorized rummage-sale heap that is my browser’s bookmarks folder.

You may be surprised to learn that there is no pornography in my bookmarks folder.  Nothing.  At all.  That I would call pornography.

It’s a lovely morning.  I should give the bike a cleaning, but circumstances with a downstairs neighbor suggest I do it on the balcony.  I really hate having neighbor troubles, those uncomfy moments when we come face-to-face in our comings and goings, particularly when we used to be friends, but it can’t really be helped.  This is why I used to fantasize about lonely duty at an arctic station.  Sartre wrote “Hell is other people”, and there are times I’m prone to agree.  Ah well, perhaps we’ll only have this problem for another month.

Okay, here’s ten more.  Chew slowly!

26.  I suffer from fairly severe dysmorphia.

27.  I have 26 teeth left in my head.  At age 14, four molars were surgically removed due to over-crowding and impaction. At age 22, two were removed because I feared dentistry, not realizing that ignoring a huge cavity for so long would ultimately end with a dentist’s knee on my chest as he pried two molars out the old-fashioned Wild West way.  It’s not fun to hear a dentist grunt with effort.  Thank the godz for happy gas.

28.  Every summer I’m tempted to use spray-on tan because I can’t tan naturally without cooking myself like a ham.  I can’t use the spray-on stuff either, however, because it always splotches and streaks and I wind up looking like the living embodiment of a Grateful Dead concert.

29.  Animal abuse enrages me and I would without hesitation bludgeon someone into a coma for it.

30.  My moral values are very important to me, and I loath myself when I step off the path.

31.  I’m pretty certain no one would really care for my turn as Emperor.  Count your lucky stars.

32.  I’m allergic to “celebrity news”.

33.  I drink far and away too much coffee.  When I quit smoking I thought every other attendant vice would abate.  Nope.

34.  I love driving through the desert at night with Mexican music muttering through the static of the car radio.  Actually, hearing the radio stations wax and wane on a road trip is one of my very favorite things.

35.  I have a highly-developed sense of olfactory memory.

Time for Sunday brunch.  Exit.


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