Black Tar Heroin Is My Fallback Plan

Tokyo was a good time, but every time I get on a boat or a plane I come back worse off than before, and in so many ways.

After living down the road in a temporary barracks for a couple months, while our old one was being painted, we are finally moved back in. I didn’t much care before, but now that I’m back it’s pretty nice. We’re closer to work, the water pressure is actually decent here, and the rooms are just nicer. The only disparaging thing I have to say about it is that were a lot farther from the gate, which means more honcho rides. Moving has also demonstrated to me how much useless shit I’ve managed to gather around me. So now I’m doing something which I used to do probably once a year, but really have been putting off for almost three now: Going through everything I own and throwing everything that isn’t vital away. This usually means getting rid of a lot of books, CDs etc., but since I don’t have the option of a trip to Half Price Books a lot of it’s going in a box to wait for the next time I go home. It’s also dug up a lot of half finished projects that I need to finish; if I ever get around to it some people can expect to get stuff in the mail.

I read Tropic of Cancer and I can’t remember the last time I was so excited by a book. The only thing that killed me about it was this wild swing in tone, where in one instant he’s out with his friends and they’re having wild times, and I’ve almost never heard better stories; and then the next he spends half a chapter in soliloquy waxing poetic about the human condition and the filth surrounding him and filling him and it’s all I can do to keep from skipping forward and looking for quotation marks. The maddening thing is that even though 99% of his monologues are bullshit he still drops these occasional lines that are amazing, I just want to frame them or tattoo them on my body or something.

Halfway now, and then new beginnings.