The Ecstatic Truth

My life is falling apart around me and I don't necessarily view it as a bad thing. As much as I try, I have yet to convince myself that I'm doomed for all of eternity. I don't know, I think I'm headed for a paradigm shift and that it will be healthy for me. Sure, I've had my patches of worry and despair, but I've also had the underlying sense that as bad as things appear to be now, I'll soon be in a better situation. All that is happening is the old skin is flaking off to make way for new, healthier skin. Or so I hope. Am I sounding too New Agey for you? Don't fret, I may masturbate to pictures of Sylvia Browne on a daily basis, but I don't subscribe to her beliefs. For those of you not aware of who I'm referring to, take a gander, because the joke won't work without having a visual in mind. Still doesn't work, huh? Maybe the joke is just fine, but you're too addleminded to know its worth. Anyway, I'm not going to go into detail about precisely what's happening because the reason I'm writing in the first place is to get some distance from it, albeit temporarily. It's not interesting stuff anyway, so please don't think I'm depriving you of a real potboiler because I am not. Nothing picaresque or tragic, just a crappy comedy of errors.

You know, that pic of the sultry Syvia is distracting me something awful, but I will see this writing business through and not give in to the beast within. I'm going to move on to something more wholesome, and if I can't manage that, which I don't think I can, I'll aim for something rated PG, or PG 13. Yeah, PG 13 feels about right. Let's move on.

I caught a Werner Herzog reference on the Simpsons tonight. The kids of Springfield elementary were having a field trip, and while on the bus, they encountered some icy patches on the incredibly steep incline they were driving up, so Principal Skinner had them drag the bus with chains. In mid drag, the German exchange student says "I feel like Fitzcarraldo", to which Nelson, the bully, replies, "that film is so over played", or something like that. Good stuff. If you haven't seen it, Fitzcarraldo is a film by Werner Herzog, where an actual steamboat is pulled over a mountain using primitive methods by the natives in South America. Wonderful, ambitious film. Les Blanks made a documentary about it called Burden of Dreams, that serves as a great companion piece. And you get to see Klaus Kinski go berserk.

I placed a follow up call to the place I interviewed at Monday, and I was informed by the receptionist that Marilyn, the woman who I needed to talk with, wasn't at her desk so I should leave her a message on her voicemail and she'd get back to me. She never got back to me. I'm hoping it's because she wants to have information to give me when she calls. Well, at least I called. What action should I take if I don't hear from her tomorrow?

Ok, I'm done with you. I'm off to better endeavors.