Sno Day!

After a meager amount of sleep last night, after a late night of work, I woke, freezing my little nads off, took a shower, got dressed for work, button-up style, grabbed a coffee and heard on the news that the schools I was supposed to visit today were closed for a snow day. Good job, God!

My Life To Live (1962)

Anyone ever seen this film? I don't know why I never had before, but it's probably going to be in my all-time top five after I watch is eight more times. If you're at all into cool films, find it sometime. To be fair, I've been in a '60s French Film mood lately, so if you're not up for that sort of thing on a normal day, wait until you're in a '60s French Film mood yourself. I will also point, again, expressly, to my firm belief that it's good enough to not have to wait for said mood to arise, so-maybe this weekend!

My tattoo guy isn't working at a tattoo shop anymore. I don't have all the inside scoop, but for now, it looks like there's only two tattooers at the old standby, Immaculate. I actually do like Rick's stuff, up in Cottonwood, and his black&grey in particular, but I feel like I have specific expectations that might not mesh that well with the way he seems to express himself with artistic whims: I just want to be a little more in control than I'd feel with him. Maybe I'm wrong-do tell.

School has begun, I'm exhausted: got tons of cool books assigned this semester, paid more than I wanted to pay for all those cool books, so hopefully I'll read every page of them, getting my money's worth. Lately, as in the past three months, I've been so into the poetry of Frank Bidart that nothing else matters. That's an overstatement, but for all you boys and girls who shy away from poetry but like the deep crap, his book Star Dust is the most moving book I've read since The Unbearable Lightness of Being, in December of 2000. No shit. Now, sure, I've read more amazing books in the past six years, but nothing has pointedly changed my life in such a way as Star Dust. Impress you friends and lovers by buying a book of poetry that's actually good.

It's cold, but my heater's working. It's cold, but I like it.

I want to see you weak / as I am

I don't have anything to say. It's cold. I've been reading Jay's blog a lot lately, and if you out there haven't been reading it, you should. For Christmas I got all black slip on vans and a wine magazine. Lately, it's been neck tattoos for me. I don't really think I'll have the brass for the side-necker, but maybe someday...

I don't do too much talkin' these days. These days.

The coffee at my house isn't all that great these days. These days, I hate to say it, but the crappy hookah/espresso lounge where you're most likely to hear six different languages in 30 minutes in Tucson actually pulls the best espresso in town. Don't get me wrong, they don't have anywhere near the best coffee beans or drip coffee or anything else, they just know how to pull a proper espresso. Actually, I'm pretty sure they use some vaccum-drum Itallian crap that's not Lavazza or Illy--which is nice, since Lavazza is way too winey for me, and Illy just isn't my thing at all. Still, though, these days, I'd like to be able to go somewhere low-key, without euro dance music playing and jocks puffing on the hookah. School and work start offically on Monday and Wednesday, respectively. I'm not ready. I'd like a few days of not talking to anyone, riding the bicycle out on the town to the park and espresso bar and what ever. It's cool out, but the sun is bright and, with a sweater on, it's enough to cook your insides just enough to keep you out in the beautiful Sonoran January. Also, unfortunately, I've lost my tattoo artist, at least for now, so if you've got a good one and want to see me, shoot me an email and maybe I can visit. These days,

I like seeing you cold like that.

Today's a Perfect Day for a Bananafish

I go back to work on Monday, and School starts Wednesday: the winter reading list is looking pretty shabby, I'm looking pretty shabby--to say nothing of how I feel, but it's a crisp 39 degrees outside right now, with the sun bright as bloody hell. I think I'll go for a bike ride that has a midpoint stop at a coffee shop. It's cold enough to where, when you're working hard, your breathing gets little sharp lacerations down your windpipe when you suck in air. Really dry feeling. I kind of like that feeling. It reminds me of what one of the teachers here at writing school said to another student the other day. He said: I like seeing you cold like that. You know, for me, that's really deep. I've been writing it over and over in my journals and on scraps of paper that miracle themselves into my periphery. Also, it's just cold enough to where you start working up a pretty nice sweat, but as soon as you stop riding--by the time the bike's locked up twice over, proper-style--you've stopped sweating. At least I stop, those sweaters out there, you know, the ones you hope never get a job in the kitchen of your favorite place to eat because they'll be concentrating on making your grilled cheese just so, then, just as it's plated, they feel the huge bead of sweat on their forehead that they've been wanting to wipe but couldn't because they were touching your food, they feel its gravity abandon the world of their head, plunging toward the pull of the earth. That would normally be fine, but it just so happens that between the earth and the sweat is your perfectly plated grilled cheese, and bam: that shit's going in your mouth, whether you will ever taste it or not. Yeah, those guys probably don't stop sweating as quickly.

I like seeing you cold like that.

I'm calling off falls from Grace

Alright. 2007, huh? Mens, I don't know how this year will go, but I hope to see all of you in it. We've been in the Phoenis up until today. It was intense, it was warmer than Tucson--by a lot, actually--and, more than anything, I'm glad that I'll be sleeping in my own bed tonight: that's been too long, too. We drove in to town today and the sun was so bright and warming.

I'd like to find a good turtleneck sweater that's, obviously, black. If any of you have seen one lately, let me know where to look.

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