November 26, 2006

Entry1_It's 2:07am on Sunday and I'm on the second floor of our building. It's a lobby of sorts. And by sorts I mean it's not like a hotel lobby. It's not even like the lobby of a seedy motel. The wood floors beneath are dirty, the walls have been painted many times over and the washed up fireplace to my left hasn't given off heat since the 80's. The building has no heat and the doors and windows behind me give way to the fire escape, which gives way to a chilly 50 degrees. The kind of cold that Michigan residents begin feeling in early September. Ahead of me are a stack of studio apartments inhabited by people who are probably still up like me. I'm wearing a gray winter hat, blue jeans from Buffalo Exchange and a long-sleeve t-shirt from American Apparel that I bought with Paul Kind in May. It was the last time I bought clothes. iTunes is churning out Blowers Daughter by Damien Rice, but if I had my other computer I'd be listening to No Need To Argue by the Cranberries. Next to my keys is a pack of cloves and I've smoked two of them in the last two hours...both times were preceded by nostalgia. They're called "Splash" and I smoke about a pack or three a year. I liken my cloves to the old man's cigar or the Indian's peace pipe. The non-inhaling kind that's good for the soul.

I came up here to catch up on the news, read my favorite Blogs and to research which countries we need visas in. Instead I'm thinking about Christianity. What I like about it. What I can't stand. I'm thinking about my friends outside the faith and those who are inside. I'm thinking about our trip around the world. How, in a few short months, I'm gonna board a plane to Hong Kong and have no idea what I'm gonna do when I step off the plane. I'm thinking about the book I've been reading this week by Douglas Coupland. It's called Microsurfs. I'm also wondering why the wireless network I'm on right now is called "Nigga Pancakes." And why this person would choose to capitalize the N and the P.

I really love that secret track at the end of the Alanis Morisette "Jagged Little Pill" cd.

November 18, 2006

My day started off poorly yesterday. Have YOU ever brushed your teeth and then tried to gulp down cold water? It hurts bad. It's like pouring hot water on an ice covered windshield. I felt like my teeth we're going to explode.

You wouldn't know it from looking at me, but I go to the gym five times a week. That's twenty times a month which means I pay $1.75 for every visit. I could have paid $12.50 for my visit last night. As I climbed up to my nemesis, I noticed a class that was happening just in front of me. The instructor was happy and swinging his arms with authority. Sounds good, right? Not quite. He was 5'8" and weighed 220+ pounds. He and the six participants were doing pilates. I tripped like six times in 20 minutes on the stair climber. That's a trip every 3.3 minutes.

My night got even better when I saw a young man on the bench press. He was benching less weight than I bench. It's remarkable really. In my 13 months at the gym, I've never seen anyone bench press less weight than me. It hangs over my head like the thought of drinking water after my morning brush. If you must know, he was benching 95 pounds. I bench more. That's all you need to know.

November 3, 2006

We just booked 2 one-way tickets to Hong Kong on February 6. There is no turning back now. Beyond Hong Kong, we have no idea where we're going or when. We have no plans and no agenda.

It's ON.

We put a world map on our wall a few months ago. We're slowly adding pictures of places we'd like to visit. Who knows if we'll get to all of them or none of them.

November 2, 2006

I'm at the library because our neighbors' internet, which we steal, has been turned off. Don't they know I have work to do and BLOGS to write?

Our library is in our backyard so it's not a big deal. It's a unique place here. You've got half 20-somethings with Apple computers who are studying or writing the next important screenplay or - how stupid is this - blogging . Then the other half is a collection of homeless people and/or mentally challenged people. For example, the homeless guy next to me just ate a pack of jellybeans louder than I ever thought it was possible to eat a pack of jelly beans. And now he's passionately reading an encyclopedia. Out loud. And the older cat lady from our building just walked by with her stained shirt unbuttoned to her belly button. I think I may have seen nipple. Then there's the burn victim. He gets a million stares a day, but he always has a ginormous smile on his face. And last in my range of sight is the older homeless man with the trench coat and Starbucks cup. He always has that cup in his hand. I think Starbucks is paying him to advertise. I bet the thoughts and ideas that go up from this building are as crazy as any place on earth. It's like a running comedy show that only God knows about.