Category: Journal

The Truman Show

How’s it going to end?

So, I’m watching the Truman Show. Some of you know that since years before this movie was made I have said that I suspect that I am part of a big conspiracy very much like the one described in the Truman Show. I like the idea of it. It helps make some of the things that happen in my life, the way the world works, make a little more sense. If there’s some writer or director or huge production staff out there making decisions about who I’m allowed to spend my time with and where I’m allowed to go, then any difficulties I’ve had … finding a place to live or finding the girl I loved and lost … are related to someone else’s decisions or production difficulties.

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A night on the town

Well, I was walking over to the Have A Nice Day Cafe last night and while standing innocently (in a Need Head T-Shirt) at a street corner, a couple of cute girls in a car stopped at the light there offered me a ride. So, I took it. They drove me down to the Club, and we exchanged numbers and as I was getting out they invited me to join them at home (one of them was only 20 and could not join me) if it wasn’t enough fun. Oh, and we worked out that I knew one of them from Rocky, though she didn’t remember me.

So I went to the club and it was still early so it was a little empty. I tried sitting down next to an attractive young woman, but she insisted that the seat was taken (I learned that she had been turning away guys all night, and I watched her continue to for another hour or more. I never saw someone show up that she let sit down there.) Instead I went over and stood by myself but next to a cute young man also by himself. He started chatting with me. When I first looked at him I thought he must be gay, or at least confused. Then he told me he was a flight attendant and that he’d never had a serious relationship with a woman and that I was the coolest person he’d met since moving to Phoenix from Cleveland. He insisted he wasn’t gay.

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Looking for love in all the wrong places

[Note: As of June, 2005, I had located Amanda again]

I tried to find Amanda again. Just another search with 800-US-SEARCH. This time an “Exhaustive Super Search” into which I put the only address I have been able to confirm she lived at since I lost her, here in the valley. The last time I ran a search for her, 6 months ago or more, I did a “Simple Search” and was rewarded with two old addresses in Oregon and a mis-spelled address that was the address in town that when I added an “n” in just the right place I found a place she had actually been. I had to ride my bike across town to verify that the re-spelled location was correct, but it was. The resident at the time seemed all too glad that she and her brother were gone and didn’t seem to care where they might have gone. So, I waited another 6 months before trying again.

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It feels like Friday

It feels like friday, and I kind of wish it was. I recently discovered that Monday is Memorial day, and that I don’t have to work. I also (theoretically) will be able to spend some time with Sara on Monday in the evening, which I am looking forward to. I do my best not to live each week as though the weekdays were only there in anticipation of the weekend, and it isn’t hard since I tend to have just as little to do on weekends as I have to do on weekday evenings. Besides seeing Sara on Monday and perhaps watching Pearl Harbor Friday after work, I don’t really have any idea what I’ll be doing this weekend.

I’m certain that the time will pass whether I have plans for it or not. I’m fairly certain that things will happen as the time passes, and that I may witness or even participate in them. Maybe a little riding around for hours looking at houses that aren’t available or cost too much. Maybe a little fighting with .css files so that this webpage displays properly in more than one browser at a time. Maybe I’ll get back to work on that huge painting I’ve had looming over me since February. Maybe I’ll walk around in circles wondering what to do all weekend.

An infinite number of crickets

Sometimes I just feel overwhelmed with emotion. After so many years of working out how to go on and keep living even while I’m experiencing strong or overwhelming emotions because that was what I had to do or go back to no emotions at all, I sometimes don’t even understand what overwhelming means. Like, I was riding around today looking for a place to live, and I found a couple of blocks where most of the houses are the same sort of house that looks like it was designed in the late fifties or early sixties maybe and the whole feel of this design and this neighborhood is something I just love, and there just aren’t enough for sale or for rent signs up right now. Hopefully after June 1st I will have more options.

So anyway, I was riding along pretty slow like, and a certain smell came to me and I was just … someplace else … a warm wave just washed over me and my bike even started to lose its concentration and I was looking around to try to figure out what I was smelling, and I think it may have been a tree, but it might have been something else growing around there, because I couldn’t bring myself to stop and I just kept thinking to myself as I tried to keep looking around for the source and keep my balance and not stop, because there is not a single for sale or for rent sign on this particular block at all, “What is that? It smells like Home. I feel like I’m finally Home.”

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