I'm cold. Winter in the los angeles metropolitan region has recently attained a new general level of suckyness. Actually, in one sense its quite nice. The sky is a crystal clear blue, which is not usually the case here in the second smoggiest city in the union.
This cold is endurable. What is harder to take is the fact that it is colder inside, too. In my father's house, where I currently reside, there is little in the way of insulation or heat generation.
Sources of heat in my father's home:
1) my own skin and bones
2) my father's squat and slow moving frame
3) the shitty little space heater in my father's room
4) the bad-ass space heater that follows me through the house but doesn't heat things nearly enough, despite the fact that it causes a circuit breaker to blow almost every day, sometimes twice.
5) the oven running with its door open
Leaving the oven door open works reasonably well in heating the kitchen and part of the living room poorly. The problem is that I'm not sure what kind of gases are pouring out of the oven and into my habitat.
Two consoling facts:
1) I may be avoiding the annoyance of a painfully long life.
2) What gases are coming from the oven may be drifting outside harmlessly through leaky or completely ajar doors and old windows.
Q: Why are these doors and windows left open when its cold outside?
A: The only reason I can surmise is that I have inherited my father's passive-aggressive and self-destructive tendencies. Either that or we are both lazy los angeles babies who cannot believe that it is actually winter. I think both of these reasons might really be the same thing in different words.
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so what is the point of this?
what does this have to do with sex, or a lack thereof?
what does this have to do with a particular sensitivity to common illegal drugs?
what does this have to do with rock and roll?
last night I got in the car and drove to a restaurant called taix in echo park, ca.
after pulling out of dad's driveway, i packed about as much marijuana as i could inhale into a glass pipe, lit it on fire, and smoked it all in one hit. I fumbled with my headphones and began a listening session with radio head's kid a. As I tumbled down the glendale freeway towards downtown los angeles, I freestyled melodic poetry to music which almost seemed instrumental, thanks to heavily processed vocals and the nearly inhuman singing of one thomas yorke.
the reason we go to taix on a wednesday night is because sharon hosts a rather nice open mic in the bar at 10 o' clock.
the problem with me at this time, is that i am very high, and after channeling some absolutely untouchable verses i was riding a wave of joy that could not possibly be channeled into my performance.
why?
because after arriving i simply drove around unable to park, and when i finally did decide on a place to park i absolutely had to sit and play guitar in order to "warm up"
or something
and since when do i have to warm up to play a song or two at an open mic, anyway?
i finally walked inside with a guitar in my hand and my computer hanging from my shoulder because the thought of it being stolen frightened me, only to find that my excellent use of time had caused me to be number 13 out of 13 on the sign-up list. At the time I didn't register the fact that I had the bad luck number, all i knew was that i was dead last. I think if I were to have been 12 or 14, I still would have gone to the bathroom and hung out for two songs. After that, I think I still would have said to myself: "fuck it. I'm going home. I'm sick and I can't afford to drink, anyway."
i never told sharon that i had decided to leave. oh well.
That night, I had exchanged a couple of phone calls with nicole about "hanging out" that evening. I could have sex with her if I had the will, but for the past year or so I've been subject to a self inflicted psychologically impotentcy.
celebacy?
not quite, but almost
After spending a potentially satisfying but ultimately dissapointing evening with her, I made a vow this morning against masturbation until I can find a way for her or some other girl to get me off.
