I was mauled by an alligator or a crocodile in Florida last month. I lived, but I am not going to tell about it. Except that it was like concrete and was suspended upside down and made to look like it was hanging at one of those weigh stations at the marina or wild game center where Ernest Hemingways stand there smiling and shirtless next to the animal they killed. I was being touristy and decided to take a touristy picture with the simulacrocodile. I lifted my arm in between the open jaws and made a face like it had come to life and bit down. I opened my mouth so as to simulate screaming and pain. I laughed at the picture a lot. I thought it was funny. I still think it is funny, except now I am annoyed with the long shorts I am wearing in the picture, like I am wearing capri pants.
Often, I do not impress myself when looking back. In a week or a month or a year, I may look back at what I am doing right now and not be excited for any number of reasons.
I don't want to write boring sentences anymore. But I will continue anyway.
Sinus infection is still destroying my head. I am considering not getting these infections anymore.
Right now, I am listening to a great new indie band that no one has ever heard of and should immediately download and listen to over and over and over so as to know every song before they get big.
Okay, I'm not. I am wearing my headphones, but I do not have any music playing. I think this is a good way to do this.
I get moments of vertigo lately. My breathing gets shallow and I think of different things and forget to really breathe. And it feels like a light slap to the temple and everything swirls for a minute.
This is boring crap.
My hair follicles are eating dessert out on the balcony tonight after a romantic dinner. They are drunkenly aroused.
I sculpted a bust of Slavoj Zizek out of nail clippings and hair and superglue. I am going to mail it to him and hopefully it will be able to show up at some of his lectures, give interviews, and perform in documentaries for him so he can take a break from the world and relax a little bit. He's a busy guy. I hope it helps.
I'm thinking of deleting some things. I'm not sure what. Probably everything.
I think it is healthy to engage blogs as yet another form of fiction: the blog as a whole is installation art, an interactive piece of social performance. This does not mean it is insincere or fake, though. I am also not making a value judgment by calling it fiction or performance, I don't think.
Yes, I think everything should be engaged as a form of fiction. That is maybe some absurd, but not much scary. I don't know what that means.