hack

I know of no greater absurdity than that absurdity which characterizes almost all metaphysical systems: that of explaining evil as something negative. For evil is precisely that which is positive, that which makes itself palpable; and good, on the other hand, i.e. all happiness and all gratification, is that which is negative, the mere abolition of desire and extinction of pain.

A. Schopenhauer

I tried to remember to pick up my boots at Nick's again today, but I forgot.

I tried to find the box of kraft envelopes I bought a few months ago, but I can't.

I tried to draw Mamie Van Doren from memory but couldn't do it.

I tried to remember the name of that other movie that Ebert and Russ Myers worked on, but...
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I'm listening to Uncle Dave Macon and the Fruit Jar Drinkers, smoking a cigar and watching the rain.

Now that's a day off!

After the black out I ate a pickeld egg and a boiled potato that were in my fridge and I drank some Marquis de Vuillard and when I fell on the floor I saw a cute little fella under my couch. He did a little dance and sang a song (I'm a little beario... but that's all I remember) in an Irish accent and then...
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Nothing now but drinking and weeping.

Drink


Weep


J. Cash R.I.P.

1. I believe I killed the wasp out of an irrational fear of being stung again.

2. Today I was walking around my house naked, as you do, when I went to my kitchen for a drink. My kitchen opens onto a deck, and on my deck, at my kitchen door, was my 78 year old neighbour, Bunty. (Bunty IS her name, I shit you...
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I am experiencing guilt over killing one of God's creatures, an ugly, little, stinging wasp.

Colour me blue.

I saw a wasp on my deck this morning and with vengance in my soul I smashed it with the morning paper. Big paper, Saturday paper. Wasp no more.

When that wasp stung me the day before yesterday I thought I was a goner.

Not really.

Yesterday a wasp stung me, but it's stopped hurting now.