Today’s soundtrack: I would rather, I would rather go blind
Today at 1:59am: laundry.


Nice thing about being Asian in the midst of a SARS scare is: When you want more room on the subway, just cough and place a hand on your chest while making an alarmed expression. Watch motherfuckers scooch.

Today it rained. At 9:45am I got out of the subway and opened my umbrella wide to the grey skies of midtown Manhattan.

Grey skies, grey rain and grey buildings. Grey people too. The corner of 51st and Lex was slick with rain.

The guy in the coffee cart has memorized my order. Every morning he sees me coming, and by the time I get to the front of the line my coffee’s waiting for me just the way I like it. Now that I don’t have to order we don’t even speak anymore. He hands me the coffee and I hand him two quarters. S’great.

None of my bosses came in today. I toiled in silence at my desk while it rained outside. For lunch I treated myself to a flank steak sandwich but it actually wasn’t very good. Thought about having a cigarette around eleven thousand times. I got over it by listening to some sweet, sweet Etta James. Some of her shit is so good that afterwards I feel like I just had a cigarette.

I hope “A Sunday Kind Of Love” is the last thing I ever hear. Maybe one day I’ll be rich and famous and I’ll crank this song up in my Bentley before I grit my teeth, flatten the gas and hurtle off a cliff.

Today at hapkido, the master sat me down and spoke about good, evil and our role in the world. I am good. (I don’t know you but chances are) you are evil. Steer clear or you’ll get a Nike in the mouth.

At 9:30pm I had a “meeting” up in K-town. Some years ago I met a filmmaker, same age, different gender, and recently our paths crossed again. She has the same unusual first name as an ex of mine.

Tonight we met up at some bar to chat about a potential project; says she wants to collaborate on a documentary. I don’t know much about documentaries but it looks like I’ll be on both sides of the camera if this thing really happens. Will keep you posted.

I want to go to bed now, I’m super, super-tired. But I can’t go to sleep until I listen to “I’d Rather Go Blind.” It fills the void.

If I were a doctor I’d prescribe musicians instead of drugs. If you’re feeling bad I recommend you take the aforementioned Etta James joints. Wash it down with “Stop The Wedding” to be on the safe side. If you still feel bad in the morning, call me and I’ll put you on some John Lee Hooker.

Today’s soundtrack: oooooh baby we’re not that blind
Today at 11:42pm: fiending, fiending


Hey so I saw The Matrix. It was worth the ten bucks but it’s not gonna change your life. Do NOT read any further if you haven’t yet seen the movie ‘cause I may inadvertently spoil it for you.


Observations:


Keanu has not gotten any better at martial arts. He’s so slow and clunky! I guess I’m just used to seeing Yuen Wo Ping’s choreography on the Jet, or people who can really pull it off.

During the non-CG scenes I’m watching Neo fight and thinking Man, this guy is supposed to be The One and I could beat his ass. I need to be in the Matrix. I can’t do that running-up-walls shit but I’ll still beat Neo’s ass with my shoe.

Morpheus got fat. Holy hell did he put some poundage on. I’m thinking Morpheus ate the red pill, and it was so good he decided to wash it down with another 5,000. Either that or they opened a Burger King in Zion right by his place.

Word up Morpheus needs to get off the Nebuchadnezzer and onto a fucking stairmaster. That scene where he’s fighting the Twins, I kept expecting jelly donuts to fall out of his pockets. Like every time he hits the ground there’s a squishhh noise and all this jelly squirts out. Getting punched with powdered sugar on his face. By the end of the movie I thought he was going to eat one of the Sentinels.

Trinity’s looking kind of haggard. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a good-looking woman and she can whup some ass, but the years in the Matrix have not been kind to her. It looks like when Morpheus goes to BK, Trinity just hangs out in the parking lot smoking and drinking.

What the hell was up with that rave scene in the cave? Was that place supposed to be a club or a temple? If it’s a club I can just imagine what the bathroom in there looks like. Stalagmites for urinals, no paper towels and nothing flushes.

Agent Smith is still pretty badass. Fuck the Matrix, they need to start making sequels about Agent Smith. I’d pay good money to see ninety minutes of him just humiliating people at job interviews. Or freaking out and punching short people in the back of the head while on line at a place that makes smoothies. Or arguing with a customer service rep from AT&T and getting all aggravated. That would be so awesome.


The Matrix Freeloaded:
Neo, Morpheus and Trinity on line at Burger King


CASHIER: So you want the number One?

NEO: No, that’s not what I said; I said I am The One.

CASHIER: That’s great, but do you want to order something, or--HEY! Sir, please do not reach into the fry machine!

MORPHEUS: Mmmph. Sorry, starving. Mmmmmph. Wherza ketchup.

CASHIER: Ma’am--ma’am, please! You can’t smoke in here!

TRINITY: (exhaling smoke) Jesus, Morpheus. Take your fat ass out of that fry machine before I give you a super-sized ass-whupping.

MORPHEUS: I’d like to see you try, bitch. I’ll fight you one-handed while I eat onion rings with the other.

TRINITY: For chrissakes it’s like there’s three of you in that sweater. They should call you More-pheus.

MORPHEUS: Got three words for you, Trinity: Oil of Olay.

NEO: It’s all about making a Choice.

CASHIER: What?

NEO: I’m making a Choice. I want the whopper with cheese.

Day 22 of no cigarettes and I have mixed feelings about it. I want to smoke. Instead I’m shacked up in my room listening to Rod Stewart and feeling bad about myself.

Drugs, bad. Rod Stewart, good. Tell anybody and I’ll kill you.

Today’s soundtrack: hair will become interesting.
Today at 8:42pm: deplaning.


Cleveland is a grim little airport. An infernally small, miserable place to get stuck if ever I’ve seen one. Luckily I didn’t have to spend more than twenty minutes in that bitch. The girl who works in the bagel joint by gate C-7 lives in a profoundly deep and torturous personal hell of unimaginable despair. Look the bitch in the eye and you’ll see what I mean.

In the ‘70s people used to clap when the pilot landed the plane. Assuming the landing wasn’t all fucked-up, I mean.

First time I was on a plane must’ve been 1978 or so, I think I was seven, and when the pilot landed it motherfuckers applauded. I looked at my mom and she said that’s what you do when planes land so I clapped too.

Needless to say, Landing Applause has gone the way of eight-tracks and Betamax. In the past month I’ve experienced a total of fourteen landings, some rough, some smooth but afterwards no one lifts a finger.

They used to applaud at the end of movies, too. Remember that shit?

Maybe in thirty years you’ll get up at the end of a jazz set and everyone will just put their coats on.

“Years ago, they used to applaud after a set,” you’ll mutter as you exit the bar. Your hovercraft whisks you away to your own profoundly deep personal hell of unimaginable strife and torment.

Today’s soundtrack: I got good news, I got eyewitness
Today at 8:02pm: fiending


Why haven’t I written in a while? ‘Cause I’ve been a fucking mess, that’s why. This is Day Twelve without cigarettes. Shit ain’t easy, especially for a self-professed writer.

Been smoking for 12 years. In that span of time there was maybe two days when I didn’t have a single cigarette. Once when I had to get stitches in my mouth, and once when I got crazy food poisoning in Japan. That last time was a mess--out of my mouth came Japanese curses, vomit comprised of bad maguro and carbon dioxide, no smoke.

Now it’s been twelve fucking days and I, want, a, cigarette. But I won’t have one! Because I’m a QUITTER.

Today’s soundtrack: MCs be needing dough while I make bread like Wonder
Today at 8:02pm: habla habla habla


Hey. Sorry I haven’t written in a while, it’s just because I hate you. Ahahaha just kidding. I’m, er, incapable of hate.

So I’ve been spending a fuck of a lot of time on airplanes lately, let’s discuss. Why do they still make the stewardesses do the safety demonstrations? Is there a motherfucker alive who doesn’t know how to use a seatbelt? Even if there is, wouldn’t it be better to leave his ass in the dark about it and let Darwinism run its course?

If I ran an airline shit would be different. I’d be all “Listen up people ahma tell you one time. This is a seatbelt. If you don’t know how to use it, I strongly recommend you leave it off. I also recommend you play frisbee near crowded expressways, run with scissors and smoke near gas fixtures if at all possible.

“See this orange joint? This shit is an oxygen mask. If it drops out of the ceiling that’s bad, bad news. Means the cabin’s depressurized and you won’t be able to breath normally, which is where the mask comes in. If you can’t figure out how to use it then it’s lights out for you. If there’s anything useful in your carry-on luggage I will sell it on eBay.

“In the event of a water landing you can either follow the instructions on the safety card or you can do what I’d do, which is to break into the pantry and try to make pancakes before this bitch sinks.

“Let’s be honest folks, when was the last time you ever heard of a plane making a successful water landing and everyone got rescued in these rubber raft lifeboats. If this plane starts going down and we’re over water, I fully invite you to begin punching the passenger next to you because in three to four minutes nothing is going to matter anymore.

“If you’ve got a cell phone you can try calling loved ones, but chances are good that I’ll slap the phone out of your hand in order to spread the sensation of futility and hopelessness.

“In a few minutes we’ll be serving peanuts. You may notice the packages have already been opened. That’s because at least half the peanuts in each package have already been in my mouth. Don’t worry, I mean I don’t have a cold or anything, it’s just something I like to do.

“So sit back and enjoy your flight--or don’t, I really don’t give a damn because I get paid either way. The fact is you’re stuck in this bitch for the next few so you might as well make the most of it.

“P.S., act up and I shoot you in the neck with a horse tranquilizer, end of story.”