Bumblebee

It was a large bee, I admit, but please, commuters, is it really necessary to screech and squeal like the world's most solipsistic porn star at the mere sight of such a creature, probably fleeing the downpour in a subway car just like everyone else?
At DeKalb Ave. a passing acquaintance from college boarded and sat next to me, her face freckled as if pocked with a thousand stings. She didn't notice me and I certainly wasn't going to say anything. I got off 2 stops later, to the buzz of the last song on the CD I was listening to, a tune called "Bumblebee." Nice.

This is what happens when you only get basic cable

Brendan
Boehning/JNORG/US

06/21/2005 12:23 PM

To: Philip Truong/JNORG/US@wall15.jnlawyers.com
Subject: so, to continue...


Patch Adams - the wire-hanger abortion of acting, the Srebreniza of cinema, Gary Gilmore reborn as a screenwriter.
i'm convinced the entire movie is a subliminal instruction manual on auto-fellatio. i only watched the last third and managed to witness both the trivialization of child molestation, mental illness & murder AND the shameless plagariazation of Dead Poets Society and To Kill a Mockingbird, complete with the "wise ol' Black matron" character, a courtroom apologia, and central "caterpillar turns to butterfly" metaphor.
but then again, i watched it, if only to marvel at the horror; like watching an autopsy video or reading a book about Hiroshima.
but still, Robin Williams: 1, Me: 0

Leisure Is Work, Part Two

Everyone knows the best ideas have been thought up in bars. An important link in the historical chain (for the working-class and the dreamers, for the poets and the pirates) will soon be severed, and a once fertile ground for cultivating progressive thought will turn arid, as the forces of labor expand and colonize even what little "free" time is still doled out to us by the machinery of political economy, like a galvanic soup-kitchen attendant.

Thoughts on a Full Moon Sunday, Long Island Railroad delay

... fatality on the Wyandanch track, Father's Day. am i to infer anything from this? after all, it isn't Christmas... shuffle off, shuffle on, the sky is baleful deep blue, spotlights from driving ranges in the distance... wish i had a wine key... Klonopin comes to the rescue once again. after all, relax it's only time, sketch in notebook, look at pretty girl. headphones on, the journey stretches longer and longer, the music has more meaning now.

Leisure Is Work

Found while scrolling thru the newswires of the World Wide Web: stories of American employers looking outside the boundaries of company time for reason to fire their workers. Example: John Kerry bumper sticker. Fired. Budweiser brewery employee, drinking Coors at a bar after work. Fired. Waitresses at an Atlantic City bar required to stay within a certain weight range or face expulsion.
The capacity for rage having been thorougly exhausted, let me just saythat it is obvious who owns our time, and even more obvious how much of it they own.

_ Brendan