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Booklog
Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs
My mother is standing in front of the bathroom mirror smelling polished and ready; like Jean Nate, Dippity Do and the waxy sweetness of lipstick.
East of Eden by John Steinbeck
The Salinas Valley is in Northern California.
The Straw Men by Michael Marshall
Palmerston is not a big town, nor one that can convincingly be said to be at the top of its game.
Vineland by Thomas Pynchon
Later than usual one summer morning in 1984, Zoyd Wheeler drifted awake in sunlight through a creeping fig that hung in the window, with a squadron of blue jays stomping around on the roof.
Collected Fictions by Jorge Luis Borges
In 1517, Fray Bartolomé de las Casas, feeling great pity for the Indians who grew worn and lean in the drudging infernos of the Antillean gold mines, proposed to Emperor Charles V that Negroes be brought to the isles of the Caribbean, so that they might grow worn and lean in the drudging infernos of the Antillean gold mines.
Finished
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posted Friday, September 14, 2001
Cruising for a Bruising
So, I've carried on. Work has let me rearrange my schedule to four, ten-hour days instead of five eight?s and I had the day to sleep in and work around the house. I keep hacking at the bills and paperwork around here, but it never seems to go away. Whenever anyone used to say that before I turned 21, it would go in one ear and out the other. Now, I'm starting to get it. That's all growing up is, really. Realizing for yourself everything grownups used to tell you when you were younger.
Since the break-up a few weeks ago, the cruising habit has kicked in again. I find myself sitting up late at night, chatting up Internet users, and going out to the bars with Dave and other friends. I've met a few guys, but nothing more friendly dates, I think. It's fun to be dating again. I've been pretty good so far, too. Nothing but totally polite and respectable. So that's fun for a change.
Maintaining youthful optimism has been a conscious effort of late. It came so easily before, but I'm starting to notice my straining grip. The tendons in my forearm tense and my veins are bulging (Mmm...). Every so often, I see that shadow creeping along the visible edges of my thoughts. It whispers disheartening things about how this is As Good As It Gets, and to Give Up because no matter how hard you look You'll Never Find It.
Cynicism. That's the word I'm looking for. I'm holding cynicism at bay with a burning torch, and it slithers along the outside of this lighted perimeter like those creatures in Pitch Black. Which is a great movie, by the way. I'm sure I've mentioned this in the past, but I love Vin Diesel. Vin, baby, if you're reading this, I'm a single guy, fairly intelligent, handsome, have seen all your movies (including Iron Giant) and give great... massages. Wanna date?
Yeah. This cruising thing is getting a little out of hand. Luckily, I have my Ben & Jerry's in the freezer to take my mind of such disgraceful flimflam.
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