Sunday, October 06, 2002
i once read a poem that said, life is a series of tasks that you want to do and some that you think you have to do.
it wasnt a good poem, but i think i knew what the dude was trying to say.
when it was cold here in hollywood a few days ago i thought i really wanted to move somewhere warm.
today all day i procrastinated on something that i felt like i Had to do to secure my future.
and now im doing something that i want to do: write you.
the independent film channel is on. i watch a lot of tv when i procrastinate. it's really the only time i pay attention to the tv, other than when it's showing me the nfl, the sopranos, and the e! channel.
i watched moulin rouge twice today. purple rain twice too.
i watched and taped the raiders game. loved the sopranos. loved anna nicole. loved "the worlds greatest bathrooms" on the discovery channel.
didnt love how i wasted a perfectly good sunday.
you know how old im gonna be in two weeks?
if i was a poet from the romantic era i'd be not only dead but decomposed.
im so old ashley called and said she could drive up and hang out with me and i said, cool. then she said she couldnt and i said, thats ok, i have work to do. only old people say nonsense like that.
only old people think about stocks.
today i learned that Salon's stock price is one penny. why does this sound like a reasonable price to me? am i missing something?
can it go any lower than a penny? wasnt it just a nickle the other day?
and what does it say about your company when youre selling stock for a penny and you're still not sold out?
it would make me sad.
but now isnt there a possibilty that it would go to two cents and the dumb sap who bought 2,000 shares for $20 could double his money just like that?
i'll tell you. this whole internet craze stock market who-ha has taught me one thing about the markets: anything is possible.
and i must say that i like this sort of market a lot better. i've got an etrade account. i've got $20. i know i probably cant get Salon at a penny, but i might be able to get it at two or three cents.
and what if something happened. something really unbelieveable like Salon started to become successful. i know. impossible. i agree with you. but what if. thats all im asking, what if.
what if Salon after a little while really gets popular and starts trading at 6 bucks 7 bucks. two thousand shares at three cents doesnt sound so bad then. and what sort of cheapskate would i look like in the eyes of my young son when he looks back at these blog enteries and says, "dad, you had a chance to get salon for two cents and you didnt do it?"
and i would crack open another beer and ignore the boy. just like always. salt in the wound, hey son?
he doesnt mean any harm, he's just curious.
and ashley doesnt mean any harm. she just wants to be loved. just like any of us.
she calls and she calls. we never have anything to say. i ask her if she has seen her boyfriend lately. she says she doesnt have a boyfriend. then she says she loves me. then i say i love me too. then she laughs. then i laugh. then her boyfriend listening in on the phone sneezes. then i hang up. then i turn off the ringer. then she calls and calls. and my christmas lights burn out.
the window is cracked open. summer made a curtain call.
i think about how comfortable i feel with ashley. and how not comfortable i am with some other girls. and then how nearly soul-mate comfortable i feel with chris and jeanine and how do you decide which is the right level? this one girl said she was coming over to say hi and i cleaned up the house so fast. that doesnt happen when you feel comfortable, but its a good reaction. isnt it?
i feel so comfortable with chris that i tell her some of the most disgusting things you could ever imagine. with her help i have mastered the technique of saying such things in the most serious, believable tone. its quite amazing. sometimes she'll say, pardon me, What did you just say? and i'll repeat it.
to me, i think thats love.
but she doesnt want me.
she says she knows what shes turning down, but she can live with her decision.
and hangs up.
and the phone rings, and it's ashley. different kind of comfortable.
the sort of comfort you get holding a loaded weapon with the safety on.
technically everythings okay, but everything aint okay.
it's midnight now and i have to go to bed because im oooooooold and my wrists hurt from typing and surfing and trying to make the world a better place.
i will go to bed alone, wake up alone, go to work alone, come home alone and finish this thing tomorrow night as the bears face the packers from green bay.
in order to have a different life, the bad poem says, you have to do different things.
so this is the lamest entry i could think of.
Previously on busblog...