In Honor of Bloomsday

Since yesterday was Bloomsday, the day on which Ulysses is set and the day that James and Nora Joyce had their first date, I spent the day writing down EVERY SINGLE FREAKING THING that I did. Over all, I think I was relatively successful. Imperfectly of course, since if I was going to do this seriously, I would need a rotating daily system of notebooks which I would use over the course of weeks, possibly months. An interesting idea no doubt, but I dunno if I have the resolve for something of that scale. To track an entire life's minutae. Hmmm. Interesting.

As far as yesterday goes, here it is:

Got up 6:10, struggled to remember freaky dream, showered, did not use leave in conditioner, read comics, checked facebook, spilled blueberries while packing lunch, cleaned up, ate blueberries and pineapple w/ vanilla yogurt, took motrin and fish oil w/orange juice, filpped through Newsweek, put on socks and shirt, sat on couch, petted cat, put on shoes, got bag, said bye to Dad, drove to work in terrible traffic, got to work late, called in, came in looked at schedule, talked to Vincent, tried to make coffee, failed, priced books 8:00-9:00, picked up a copy of Thus Spake Zarathustra, got coffee, bought books from people, did a cary in, cart buy, got burned out by 11:40, went to piss, got more coffee, talked about Bloomsday, noted Jason's deep dark despair, texted Max, went to lunch, sat down, stood up, washed hands, got lunchbox, microwaved hamburger, read Shopenhauer, ate fruit, negotiated with hot cheeseburger, scalded fingers, drank soda, finally finished hamburger, read, put head down, threw away trash, put bag away, steeled myself, looked at my section, did some donates, went to the bathroom, went back out to my section, shelved laconically, went to the breakroom, talked to Colby, got my stuff, drove to Paperbacks plus, passed it, turned around, drove back, parked went in, looked around, took a piss in upstairs bathroom, walked around more, sat down, went back out to car, labeled my book with my name, put away sunglasses, got stuff, went back inside, introduced myself to Daryll Scroggins, sat down, waited, introduced myself to everyone, sat and listened, talked to Thea, got a drink, talked to thea again, sat down, started getting a little bored, put stuff up, got ready to go, went downstairs, drove home, came in, put bag down, ate fruit, reheated lasagna, talked to mom, ate lasagna, surfed internet, brought container to sink, said hi to dad, called Ari, talked for 1:38:45, went to sleep.

Mas Poemas

Haven't been studious in my updating. Here are a few poems.

Poems From the DART, 9/29/08
1.
face pockmarked by
years laboring in the sun, yet
you too are beautiful-
for you have lived your life
uncloistered;
bereft of ignorant intellectualism
and with your hands
you spoke to the dirt
and it spoke back
true illiterate prophet of the soil

2.
graceful curves your ear
below hair pulled back,
carefully clean and combed

so beautiful are the arches
that span your face
an Alhambra formed
of flesh

but all of it put to lie
by the ink stain etched
on the vestigial wing
of your shoulder

the dressed up scream
of a madman who
could not bear
the overwhelming beauty
of life

3.
stalactites on an old
neck
water of time drip drips
dripping
etching calcium deposits
in flesh