I'm at the Cudahy Pancake House in Cudahy—it's been awhile since I've been down here (South Side, on my bike)—like since last summer! This place used to be Fili's (which then moved down the street to a spot that used to be a different diner). It looks the same—standard family restaurant. They don't have the amazing breakfast buffet Fili's used to have, but they have lots of crepes and pancakes, etc. Apparently they haven't heard of the gluten-free concept yet in Cudahy. I got a Hawaii 5-0 omelette, which was good.
This is the third (after “Memoir” and “Notebook Journals”) online journal consisting of entries typed from notebook pages. Presented here in chronological order, starting at the beginning of 2016 and continuing on, until death do us part.
(Please Note: This is in "Blog" format, so to read journals in chronological order, start at the bottom, with the oldest post first, and read upward.)
The expression came to me: “Deep Dream”—about a dream that seems to go way back and extend a lot of time... This one, when I woke up, it took awhile to remember it was a dream. It was all about me having some kind of an affliction where I had to regularly intravenously inject something. It was exactly like a diabetic, but never mentioned as diabetic in the dream... I would have a physical crash—be messed up, then inject something in my arm and be okay. It was long and very real! Can't remember most of it now—the details. There were new people and places. Very intense and real. The last part, I had woke from a nap feeling crappy, and a person (friend? girlfriend? doctor? ) talked on the phone, said don't wait to feel really bad before injecting, etc. and I was thinking—I can't even imagine it now—like when you are at the place where something you do every day suddenly seems alien—and it was because I was walking up for real—and it was all a dream.
I'm at the Pleasant Kafe on a still hot, still summer Friday, with my small red notebook which I started (almost) here, (first time I was here) in March 2015. The time has evaporated the last couple of years. That's okay—I've gotten a little done—not as much as I'd like—but then when do I ever?
I was just at the office for the mail, but then didn't feel like going to the gym—so I came over here on a short walk. Not enough exercise today, but I'll do pushups when I get home, I promise. Then work on some writing. I'm feeling bad because I didn't look for jobs all week—I hate job hunting. But everyone must hate it, right? I'm going to look at what I wrote here, before. Well, I started out by by making it a fictional journal for a character (Robert Harmon), but that soon fell away—and then a year went by, and like six months ago I started writing in this notebook regularly, and was talking about wanting to work on my Coen Brothers article, and also working on the Iris part of my novel (K2)—and now I'm finally getting back to both of those things. What happened? Time? Summer? Hot summer? I have been working, the REX work I do, I suppose, takes up more time and energy (especially energy) every day, more than I think.
Interesting people in here, though all dudes (and it's pretty empty) (it's 3 in the afternoon). Anyway, I was just looking at my entry for when I ate at Empire of China (only time since I've been back living here) and this guy came in, young hipster, and he was talking about going to Emperor of China, and he said they have a special Chinese menu if you ask for it. I love that kind of thing. But unfortunately, for me, it gets into the soy sauce dilemma (because of wheat gluten in soy sauce), but still, maybe it's worth a try.
I'm at the Plaza Cafe for breakfast—doing some REX paperwork—(not counted in my hours, but there is always paperwork—that in a regular job would be part of the job). Anyway, I decided to put some more journal entries in the back (or front, whatever) of this notebook—old orange notebook #20—which I've been using since the beginning of 2014! Can that be right? The last 2 or 3 years have really melted away. I'm afraid it's the beginning of the end. It's that point where the skydiver whose parachute doesn't open starts to really notice that the ground is rushing near—which means there are only seconds left.
But the good thing with my notebooks lately is that I'm using 11 or 12 supplemental notebooks along with this main one—and putting journal stuff in them. It might be hard to keep track of later, but maybe by then I'll be dead, and then someone else can either deal with it or totally ignore it! Or—I'll still be typing out these journal notebooks, and I'll just enjoy tracking down the various daily journals in chronological order. At lest I'm a lot more organized now than I was in 1997, the time of which I'm currently typing out those old journals—and it's kind of an unruly mess. Ten of the notebooks I'm using are for my novel-in-progress—K2—and I'm putting some journal entries in them. (The idea is to, when I go somewhere, carry only one notebook at a time!)
The notebook I've been using most lately for journals is this small red one (very small) (20A?—or something). I can actually fit it in my back pocket—and of course it's light—so that's a big plus! But it's almost full—so I'm going to have to decide, when it's full, whether to start yet another (light, small) notebook to replace it! Also—I'm planning on retiring this notebook at the end of this year—and starting a big, new notebook (#21)!
I'm at Xankia for lunch—it's 1:30pm and there are six parties here—total of 13 people—which is kind of surprising—I thought it'd be empty—I'm glad people are here! For one, this is a place I want to exist (not enough pho I can walk to) and it's nice when people are around—it's way past Milwaukee lunchtime (which is 11, 11:30—and all these people are on break from work, it looks like—except for maybe two dudes). Everyone is eating sandwiches which I'm sure are really good Vietnamese sandwiches (except one dude eating soup). I'm, of course, eating Pho, my favorite of all dishes—which I eat way too seldom. (I saw a recommendation for a pho place (Pho 88, I think) in Chicago, on the REX app this morning. Which made me think of coming here. This is not a bad space to sit—it's fast-foodish and order at counter—but still has a kind of odd personality (without trying). It's okay—the group of six left—six kids in their twenties—three men, three women—I'm almost certain they are coming from a job—but where? No uniforms, casual dress, I bet they are in the tech industry somewhere. I did a bad job of eavesdropping.
Sunday Project—no—I'm not going out to breakfast this Sunday, so no Sunday Project—I got a late start—I'm at home—I'm going to do a little on the computer and then go for a walk/do errands—I guess I don't even feel like going to breakfast today for whatever reason (almost always feel like it). But not today—so much better to spend that $12 (what breakfast costs these days) on a day when I feel like going somewhere for breakfast/or lunch and writing (which might well be tomorrow). Anyway, today is 9/11—obviously, and the unforgettable anniversary—but 15 years—hard to believe—it's also (yesterday) two years since Cindy died—also hard to believe. I don't like thinking about that too much—but it's making me want to avoid people (also social media versions of people) and I'm instead thinking about eulogies and how a lot of people consider them important. Maybe they are—but I don't ever ever want to write/perform a eulogy.
It is the hottest day of the summer, it feels like—it's 90 degrees in my apartment—and humid—there is a breeze outside at least. I'm at the Bollywood Grill. I wish it was a little more over-AC'd in here—but no—glad it isn't—too much AC is worse than too little—it's pretty okay. I texted Brent and Doug about coming here, but no answer. Kind of a crappy morning for me—just way too hot when I woke up. Actually, reading was nice, but not able to work on the computer at all. Eating very spicy food on a very hot day makes some sense to me—somehow. But probably over-eating doesn't. But it's hard not to, here, because there is so much that's delicious. I've been doing better, though—two plates and dessert—actually, that's a lot.
The thing that's causing me the most anxiety today is not my REX work, or stuff with Chris (no payment yet), or IRS (not resolved yet) or job hunting (haven't started yet), but rather trying to do this project for Sara C. about Lyndon Sculpture Garden—a kind of interpretive guide—drawing thing—which I had (what I thought) (was) a good idea for—but as I try to draw it (kind of an impressionistic map based on the satellite photos, and then later a visit)—not happy with it—attempts to draw (and it occurs to me, if I went out there, I might have a better idea, or an inspiration how to draw it)—but anyway—she asked me way back like in April—and I still haven't made any progress—so it's kind of being rude of me—adding to my anxiety—really, it should just be no big deal, and I should say, sorry, I can't come up with anything. But I hate to fail. I also haven't done any drawings for my possible new zine. It occurs to me—lately—what I need are some big life changes... But what, exactly? I don't know...
Oh, just remembered some really weird, bizarre, and extensive dreams, or dream—it seemed very significant... but it's now all faded away.
I'm at Ma Fischer's on a Sunday—it's Sunday—still summer (it's so funny how people all want to make summer over when August is over—and it doesn't remotely feel like fall yet, or even un-summer—but I guess it's more about a back-to-school thing) (Ha). Thinking about back so school—when was the last time I was, myself, going back to school? It was, yes, 1986, when Beth and I lived in Columbus and I think both went to OSU—it was my last quarter of college ever, and kind of disastrous—I was freaked out by it—not happy being in classes—ended up skipping classes and dropping out after the fall quarter. It sucked—and I vowed never to go back to school again. Anyway, since it's 2016 now, that was 30 years ago! (And 38 years since I since I started college—also OSU—in 1978.) I just listened to the first Ohio State football game yesterday, which is what, for me?—marks the beginning of the fall season—so I guess there's that—even though it sure feels like the heart of summer, still—though pretty nice out—nice summer day! (Though, for sure, no one pays any attention to that first day of fall September 21 or so thing.)
Anyway, more on this subject of school starting, college, etc.—on my way over here (I'm still at Ma Fischer's, eating a Country Skillet). I stopped at Beans & Barley to buy some stuff at the store—I considered eating at the cafe, but I was looking at that counter, where I'd sit (being alone) and decided I didn't want to sit on those fucking tall aluminum stool seats—I hate those! Anyway, I was buying deodorant and soap, since they have a good selection of stuff like that—and I was just looking at the products—like various food, “ethnic” foods, hot sauce, and thinking, if you lived in a small college town, this store might be the only place to buy stuff like this—but you'd be really happy that it existed! And this made me think about that feeling of moving somewhere new—and then going about finding the places in town where you can buy the groceries you want. Is there a co-op? Small, privately owned markets? Etc. As well as movies, and everything. And how this was the joy of moving places like Columbus, Kent, New York, Cleveland, Iowa City, Seattle, Portland, and Milwaukee. And how I'd like to do it again sometime. But not sure where. Plus, I feel like I'd like to move to a small college town—but where?
I'm at Maxfield's Pancake House on a Sunday—it's a pretty weird morning out there—really nice—great to get out, but like 98% humidity and fog. It's early, I got here at 9am. Anyway, a great morning for a bike ride, except for moisture on my glasses—but it's crazy—there's like no one out—well, I guess there are people here, as usual (all drove).
Last week was a pretty crazy week in all—maybe one of the most fucked up in awhile—not so bad—and I'm dealing with stuff okay—first of all—pretty much isolated—though I met with Brent at Glorioso's on Monday or so—but otherwise didn't go out to eat at all or talk with anyone at all except the desk clerks at the hotel. I'm increasingly isolated—I feel like Travis Bickle, but I have a better diet. Then two days in a row I went for walks and was constantly accosted by crazy people—well, the first day I walked to the lake, and first a guy panhandling—but like a nice guy. Panhandling, for it to exist, I was thinking, depends on a certain ratio of panhandlers to pedestrians—and a certain amount of good will—I mean, some people it's going to freak out—and some people don't ever walk more than a few steps from their car. I guess if I'm walking for an hour and a half and come across three people asking for money, it's no big deal. Except the second guy was all fucked up—so that was more disturbing—but, whatever. But then the third guy I came across was not asking for money or anything. He was just swearing at me—I couldn't even understand what he was saying—just screaming. Anyway, you have days like that, where walking seems like not a great option. But then the next day, I walked to the library and back—about an hour—and in that time, there were three people screaming at me—in different places. So I don't know what's up with that. It seems like things don't feel too great lately—but these things go through phases. Then—same day, I think—I talked to Chris on the phone (only other person I talked to all week) and he said pretty much the REX app was going under and he was out of money—I talked to him about it a bit—and then if I should look for a job, and he said yes (at least I confirmed using him as a reference, etc.)—so that was kind of upsetting, because it's like losing your job (it is!) But also, in a way, a relief, because I've been not crazy about this REX work lately—not making enough money, anyway—and thinking I should try to make a change. Find a job—so at least this is something that forces the issue—and will get me motivated to make some changes—and soon—like, now.
Oh, yeah, I had two migraines last week—which the new(ish) migraine pills took care of—so it's important to me to keep my health insurance!
I'm at Ma Fischer's on Sunday—for, yes, Sunday Project! It's funny—in my old notebooks—once I started “Sunday Project” I was keeping it separate from my other journals. But now—going back and typing those journals, I want to put it all in chronological order—so that was a mistake. (Of course, now I'm writing journals in several different notebooks—so it will eventually be a challenge to type them all in chronological order.) (That is, if the journals, and I, and the project of typing them survives.) Another weird thing about the old ones—sometimes I had these ongoing projects of writing fiction in my journals—so now I am faced with the decision to include that or not—and how to approach it, etc. Anyway, this is one of the projects I'm now working on—I put all my old notebooks together—(and there are like 80 or so!) and I'm going through them, typing them, and putting them in in a blog—or will—two—one on my website, and one a Blogger blog (one starts in 1972—the other 1995—so they're like 20 years apart and 20 and 40 years ago!). I have no idea if anyone will ever what to read these—I don't care! However, one thing that is interesting to me is that I basically am doing the same thing as my first journal I kept when I was 12! (Maybe there was an earlier one, but it's lost.) And then when I was 16 I was doing a fictional story in my daily journal. I have changed a lot, of course, and I also haven't changed.
Well, it's a fun project, reading these, and typing them (I probably would never have just read them)—so that is that. I'm kind of learning a lot—actually—remembering things I totally forgot. Kind of exciting! Well, besides that I'm reading a lot lately, which is making me happy. It's been really hot—(mostly humid) just killer—so—and today is the first day it felt better—great weather! Various crises lately—trying to deal with them, and maybe doing OK—maybe not—won't go into it. I feel my mental state is kind of fragile—maybe cool weather will help. Ma Fischer's is still exactly the same—and now I am going to go next door to the Oriental for a movie.
I'm at Maxfield's Pancake House on Sunday morning, earlier than usual, which is nice—it's still full of people—it's bustling. I almost came here yesterday—but decided it was too rainy and humid—then forgot to go to the Farmer's Market—I went to the office, but didn't go to the gym—went to a frozen yogurt place—which was kind of fun—and then walked more and listened to podcasts. I worked on my website (Notebook Journals) and a Mexican restaurant review—and I did REX stuff in the evening, and I watched the Olympics (surprisingly good so far—especially beach volleyball, swimming, and track—2 really good 10,000 meter races). Later in the day I heard about another police shooting, and by night there were riots. There has got to be a better way than shooting people. I don't know—why does it keep happening? What if you had police have NO guns (just maybe SWAT teams—for like hostage situations) and have less cars—and hire more police—so save money on guns and cars (and especially the aftermath of shootings) and put money into greater numbers and more training (because they can't be beating people to death, either)—I'm sure my idea will go over really well. I guess what I should do is move to another country—there has to be someplace better. Anyway, you can see stuff like that coming—it's the hottest days of summer—and then people are cooped up because it's raining—and then people are also freaked out because it's so hard to find a job (it's always hard—even when the economy is good—so even harder when it's bad—and it always makes you feel helpless). So—things build up, then they explode. You look around, and because wealth is so flaunted, it really creates confusion. I'm confused, I know that.
Very realistic dream about shopping at a big sale, like a church sale or something, that is all African-American—this, after an evening reading about riots going on in Milwaukee; burning some stuff down—after another police shooting in Milwaukee. Anyway, I don't know what this sale is, or the community, or what city, but it's all very positive, people are nice—and I'm buying some shoes and a 1970s hat—but the main thing—a giant plastic cow—like something that would go in front of a restaurant, like a dairy farm place—or cheese or ice cream restaurant. And a guy is donating his trailer to attach to my van (or borrowed van?) to carry the cow back to where I live (somewhere like Cleveland?) and I'm kind of skeptical—how am I going to drive this thing? And then how will I get the trailer back to the guy?— but someone, maybe Peter? (who is helping me load it) says the guy doesn't necessarily want the trailer back.
Qdoba, Water Street—technically the closest to me—closest Mexican food to Stately Wayne Manor. Anyway, it's fast food, but so exotic to come here—totally alien to me—it's like taking a vacation in my own town. Brisket tacos—pretty good! And Mexican Orange Fanta (too expensive). Anyway, happy to experience—the guy working, really nice—recommended stuff—and was just personable—made the whole experience good.
I'm at the new Durbar Indian Buffet in the Park East Hotel—for lunch—1pm on a very hot day. Not so hot, but humid, close—or maybe it's me. I thought by this time of summer I'm used to it—but I can't breathe or think—for some reason it's getting to me, more than usual. But if I think back to some of the hottest times in summer—I wouldn't be trying to write—or do anything too ambitious—and I'd be like braindead and melt—and I'd drink—maybe smoke cigarettes. Now I'm actually getting some stuff done. Anyway, I think I might be partially disoriented because I got up at 5am this morning—read a little—then went immediately out on a walk (well, 6:30) and I was so into the podcasts I was listening to (I listened to 4, or parts of 4 different ones) and of course walking—that I went for like a 2 hour walk—ended by a trip to the grocery store—so my whole day had a disorienting slant—it seems both later, now, and earlier, than it should—weird. Also, kind of like—what day is this? My work schedule—for REX stuff and Chris is kind of all over the place—which I like, in theory, anyway—no routine or fixed times—but on the other hand—it's disorienting, too, so I don't know. Anyway, yesterday—I had to go into the office and look for some documents—not easy to find—yet I did find them, so that was good. At least for how much a big waste of time that is—mission accomplished. But then, in general, I feel like I've been working too much for the amount I'm getting paid—yet, I'm essentially the one who decides how many hours I work—so it's all on me. And then, because Chris said something about liquidating stuff, it got me worrying that my work might dry up. I woke up at 4am yesterday with anxiety. But again, that's me—I'm the one making the anxiety. Always worry about jobs, money—but why? I guess I always will.
I'm at Maxfield's Pancake House on Friday—I felt crappy all morning—but once I started riding my bike I felt good. What does that say? Ride bike more! I got up at 6 or so—read a little—then finished reading Chris's script, which he sent me a few days ago—and by 10am I was ready to get out of the apartment! So it was 2 hours of reading “Hampton” script and maybe 2 hours of my own stuff, which was maybe eating cereal and going to the bathroom—washing dishes. But I only read for like ½ hour—a book—where does the time go? The thing that's kind of messed up is—I feel like all the stuff I have to do for Chris really adds up—go to the office, find something, send mail, stuff like the script reading (though it doesn't come up often, it's actually a lot of hours) and then REX stuff where I'm just working on my own. All this stuff just adds up, and sometimes I think I should just get a regular job—but that's not so easy—and could actually be worse, too. Well, these are the problems, on and on. The one thing to make me feel better is to make something.
In that I'm feeling basically unhappy lately, for no real good reason—I had to ask myself WHY—and try to make changes—because real pain and misery will come soon enough—why can't I feel better in these brief periods between the really bad stuff? Discussing here is my way of trying to make a change—since I'm not going to therapy and don't really have anyone to talk to about it. A lot of my worry is around my work (REX app) and pay, money, etc. But look—all I have to do is keep track of hours and decide what I should get paid per hour and and adjust how much I work accordingly—there is no one berating me or telling me I'm not doing enough—and I'm sure I am doing enough—I'm eternally too oversensitive—I just have to get over that.
Next—what am I really unhappy about? It is this: not working on my new novel (including the drawing and zine part?) and not working my old novel (including putting it on Kindle)—why don't I just work on those more? If I don't want to, it's okay! I'm the only one who cares—I should just do what makes me happy—I work on stuff every day. But if I just want to watch a movie or sports—that's okay. I do a lot, and what I want to do is more than anyone can possibly do, anyway. So what it comes down to is: it's all on me—I can't blame anyone else for my unhappiness—but it seems like that's what the human default setting tends to always try to do.
I'm at the Bollywood Grill on a fairly hot Tuesday—this food is delicious. Ate too much, as usual. I went for a walk this morning, listening to podcasts—short walk turned into a long walk—so I can now stay in for the rest of the day. I wish it was cooler—but still, not a fan of AC. Well, it's August and a month from my favorite weather time of the year.
It's been awhile since I've been to Maxfield's. I had a flat tire on my old bike—but even more—I don't know really... too hot... too much REX work? Anyway, it was nice to get my tire fixed easily and cheaply last week, and nice to ride a bike! Still two solid months of good bike weather, plus, maybe October, maybe even November. I got my stuff ready for the IRS yesterday (to dispute a claim that I owe them $), not that hard—took only an hour—but the anxiety around the whole fiasco can't be underestimated. I woke up this morning full of anxiety—couldn't go back to sleep—out of sorts—why? Bad dreams, for one thing—have to get away from the dreams—buy why? Why bad ones? Most likely anxiety, it's this IRS stuff—but also, just REX stuff in general—I can't tell if it's just dying a horrible death—or if it's moving right along—working for Chris in general—I can't tell if he's happy about it or not, or indifferent—no communication. Maybe it's me, not writing enough, which I displace? Anyway, I'm not real happy with a lot of the REX work—and not happy with the pay. Maybe if I get my shit together—write, do art, and then find a job—maybe more $—maybe everything else will fall into place.
(Note: Word for possible use in K2 structure: PREDICATE—It might be a stretch, but read about the word and meaning—it certainly can be a bad band name and a weird ship name.)
I'm at La Fuente, 625 S. 5th Street, after I walked for one and a half hours, trying to decide where to eat. (Or if I was.) I walked down to Mitchell Street and was really impressed with how sad some of he neighborhoods are—just pretty depressing and grim—and even though there are a lot of Mexican places on the South Side—they are spread way out—at least for a walker—it's really car zone here—I was like the only on walking most of where I walked—very lonely. And it's 70 degrees, Friday—great day to be out—and no one is! Kind of depressing. So finally I made my way back to La Fuente—I'm sure I've been here, but couldn't really remember. So now is the time. I had al pastor tacos—very saucy, tasty, onion and cilantro and lime—very good! With rice and beans--$11.41 with tax. Big lunch—I took pics (a lot of food). I can write my review—it's a popular gringo spot with huge outdoor dining—good music. Big bar and TVs, OK music, very popular, but solid.
I'm at El Comedor (1039 W. National at 11th) on a very humid day—when I went out it didn't seem too hot, but by the time I hit National it was like I entered a HEAT SINK (whatever that is—it sounds good). But I didn't feel that hot—but when I came in this place it was like I'd climbed out of a pond! Anyway, this place is great—big and spacious—kind of fast-foodish with crap tables (same ones as Mykonos). It's comfortable—and yuppie-free. Nice atmosphere, really. I got too much food! I couldn't decide. Huaraches are featured—but I want breakfast, since that's what I set out for (decided to skip Pfister, skipped Zak's, and Sunday Project). So I got huevos con chorizo—since that's what I used to get all the time at Lopez Bakery. It's good, not spectacular. Anyway, I think I could order better next time—the good part—they make corn tortillas here—they are big and good—four came with breakfast—too much food! *Must return to try more stuff to properly review.
“High School Art Class” by Chet Faker (Music I didn't like on the DJ system.) $2 taco Tuesday/Thursday (like BelAir in many respects) only a few select tacos are $2 – chips are not gluten-free—fried with other fried stuff! (8305 N Regent Road – No idea why this address is here in my notebook!) The waitress—great—really nice, checked on gluten-free stuff—like she really cared! It's more of a bar, really—Winnebagos (or fake Winnebagos?) used in the décor. (This is my second visit—first was with Doug.) Much the same—tacos are too busy, too many ingredients, not enough tortilla. Atmosphere sucks—Water Street bar, essentially, it is. Food too busy, but still tasty, and the $2 deal is cool (wish it included rice and beans).