Friday. It often reminds me of a Kink's song. Where have all the good times gone? Or maybe, Friday On My Mind, by The Easybeats. I am off from work for one more week anyway, so it doesn't matter as much to me, but it is Rachel's Friday. So it feels like a Friday because of her. I anticipate the two days to come.
My weeks rarely ever begin or end on a Monday or a Friday. I have lost all sense of what a weekend is. Perhaps I never had a clear sense anyway. My weekends were spent "working" in the music industry, sort of. Weekends are when I would eat ecstasy like it was going out of style, literally. It was going out of style, and the transition seems to be nearly complete. Perhaps I am just old and kids are out there eating ecstasy daily and loving each other during their moments of being high, and occasionally during the moments between.
Today I will babysit Rhys with grandma all day. We will try to get a few errands run as well. I will go into Marin for a last and final jousting session with the lady at the film processing place. I will prepare to talk about resolution and compression algorithms. I will show her the advertisement her store uses, advertising something it does not quite provide. In truth she is actually quite nice and helpful. I will go easy on her. I have to tell myself that a few times to prepare. If I don't remind myself to be nice then things can sometimes go terribly wrong. So far I fit in perfectly in California. I just need to keep smiling and pretending that I'm nice, centered even. I'm going to get a bumper sticker that reflects my interest in saving the earth.
I want to make a bumper sticker that just says, "Drop the bomb. Exterminate them all." See if anybody gets the humor, the irony of it. It could even be framed in quotation marks. " " Maybe even give it a credit, Col. Kurtz... I want to get a bumper sticker that's about 4 feet wide and just as high. One that covers the entire back window of my car. On it I would have printed, in a very small font, the entire text of Ovid's "Metamorphoses."
Maybe not. I suppose it could just as well be Virgil's "Aeneid", in Latin. It would be ironic if the bumper sticker caused an accident in which I was killed. It's been said many times that it is a dead language. I had been warned.
I suppose my epic bumper sticker idea doesn't necessarily have to be a classic of the form. It could be Tennyson, or Pound.
Very Andy Kaufman, that. I just want more nonsensical things in my life. I'm looking forward to Rhys learning the language. I've been storing up nonsense for a lifetime. It'll be fun to finally have somebody to unravel it all on.