The Real 010505

I was just making scrambled eggs and I also made some interesting
observations. To start with, I noticed that even though we mentally
separate the shell from the insides, there really is no clear
separation. There's a film that connects the liquid to the egg and my
guess is that at the smallest levels, this film eases directly into the
shell. This is why it's so hard to crack an egg. Now I'm not very good
at cracking said eggs and so I was thinking about what the perfect
crack was. I believe the perfect crack is agressive, clearly separating
the shell in two, but leaving the main separation to be done by the
fingers. Actually, I remember that's what some gourmet cook taught me,
only I don't think she said "agressive." In life, too, the correct
action is usually more agressive than what my nature inclines toward
but not brash.
Also, I'm listening to Nirvana "Unplugged in New York." Last night, I
had a dream that Fawn sent me an e-mail and wanted to get back together
and I was inclining toward accepting. It's so funny; before all this
legal bull, all I wanted was to break up with Fawn and get back to
succeeding in this world. But since the authorities unjustly denied me
this opportunity, I look back with a sort of nostalgia on the "Fawn
Days." But they weren't happy days, not for the most part. Stress made
my stomach constantly uncomfortable, even though I was taking antacids.
And I never seemed to get to do things my way, which is the way that
works best for me. Now I have fun most of the time but I'm acutely
aware of my precarious legal/financial/social status.
But I tell you this: I believe in some kind of all-powerful force. And
the people who've been oppressing me will get theirs, whether it's on
this earth or in the fiery bowls of it.

after note: Well, fuck it the moon, Eli. I guess I feel pretty good.
How I feel about my life right now is that the lion has been let out of
the bag. I feel that in some way I've succeeded enormously and made a
positive difference in the world. My life is far too messy to pinpoint
exactly what this is. But this universe is far too mysterious for the
whole of humanity to have any inkling about it. How could I expect to
understand it? I can't but I can believe it! I am a neo-Romantic and
something of a mystic.
I just put on Nirvana's "Muddy Banks of the Wishkawa" and I'm digging
it. Oh, and my favorite song came on: "Won't you believe it; it's just
my luck. No recess, No resales, No recess." That's how it's been; no
recess. Sometimes literally; when I was a kid, they were already
persecuting me. And this society has thrown whatever it could at me; it
never stopped; it never gave me a break. But there's some mysterious,
incredibly powerful force behind me. When my back is against the wall,
it parts the Red Sea for me. I will make it in this world and I will
complete my business on this earth.
Speaking of business, I'm thinking I would rather pursue my M.B.A. in
Portland than in Eugene. Portland is a big city and has a much cooler
scene. Perhaps more importantly, they have a sperm bank. And I want to
start working with a sperm bank to create some offspring. Because there
will come a day when I'll be legendary and everybody will be asking:
Where are his descendants. But by then, I may be old, drugged out, and
incapable of creating descendants. Everything has a time and a place.
I'm happy that I may have a child with lesbian couple but it would be
better to have more. But, regardless, it's not too important to
me.
And what is "me," anyway? I'm not a conscious, rational being. I don't
pretend to be, unlike most homo-sapiens. And I'm not an animal because
an animal isn't really separate from its eco-system and so, aside from
the idea "animal" doesn't even really exist. I am like an animal in
that way; I exist in that I move, breathe, fuck and create. But I don't
pretend to do so separately from the earth or the universe. There's no
"consciousness," no "conscience" and no "me."

after note: My lawyer just e-mailed me. He talked to the DA, who has
agreed to drop charges because it doesn't meet the standard of
crimminality. These fucking bastards! I'll set a new standard of
crimminality. The only crimminals around here are dressed in blue. It's
all a fucking business, keeping the working classes in their place. For
eight months now, I've been living under the stress of this trumped up
charge. On match.com, I unknowingly e-mailed the anonymous profile of
my ex, who has an unjustified restraining order on me. Well, they're
all a bunch of Nazis but we all know who won World War II.