3,000 Jokes

Okay so it is time to write something... I have so many conflicting, and harrowing thoughts right now. There is a fan beating wind down on me. The dog is gnawing audibly on a cut-up cow's joint – maybe a knee joint, or an elbow. Do cow's have elbows? The dog is chewing, loudly, on a thick, leftover cow joint that is starting to putrefy and really smells bad.

I don't feel bad about giving the dog beef bones. These come straight from the butcher and they are the leftovers, so far as I can tell. I don't believe any cows are being killed specifically for their knee joint bones - I think it's more for the meat: the steaks, loins, and hamburgers. Meat is fucking weird. That's all I'm going to say about that tonight – the wine is kicking in and I've got to move onto more uplifting topics of conversation.

Trish and I started talking about concerts, she's seen the Clash a couple of times – tells me they could hold an audience in close and tight; even when they were playing a bigger auditorium, like The Olympic, in Los Angeles. Not an arena, but Trish tells me they used to stage boxing exhibitions there; I mean, it was a bigger place. She also saw Kraftwerk, at the Santa Monica Civic – tells me that band managed, with unreasonably loud synthesizers, to lock the crowd into a trance-like state, and to simultaneously redirect everyone's heart beats...

I have completely lost my train of thought [mind].

6,000 Jokes

Six thousand jokes. Six thousand jokes. You make jokes because otherwise life becomes too sad. But then if everything is either sadness, or maniacal laughter and ecstasy -well, that doesn't really add up. Somewhere, in between, there have to be periods of relative meaninglessness.

I read something today from Yoko Ono, about balance, and power. She decisively dismisses the concept of logic, and I think she is dead right. I listen to people, everyday, who argue that there is some kind of intrinsic, deeply entrenched logic behind this all - and I feel pity for them. Does that make sense? I don't know if it does or doesn't – but I don't consistently catch the logic, if it is there to be admired.

Ha ha now I am really just lost at sea. Thoughts have stretched out far beyond my words' capacities to capture them.

Memory Loss

Our computer is apparently 98% full right now, and It is expressing dissatisfaction. Fuck it – fuck the computer. We made it – it didn't make us. I can remember a time when we had no computers. It wasn't better, or worse – but it was really fucking different – before we all had a phone with us everywhere we went, or a weird machine that corrects our grammar and, almost immediately lets us fact-check anything we read. Great improvements, and I mean it – but we also lose a certain amount of naivety – and with that, a certain amount of fun.

madbob@madbob.com