BY Cobalt

06/01 Direct Link
I keep envelopes full of scraps of paper, which I sometimes toss, or mail to friends when I eventually grow tired of them. Doodles, package art, stray printed numbers and letters, and the list goes on. Some scraps are navigated into other envelopes, or glued onto them. Stickers are the worst -- I never know what to do with them. I keep them. Sometimes I use them. Other times I toss them. I feel about stickers the way I feel about books of short stories -- I want to use them all up immediately. I wish I didn't keep scraps of paper.
06/02 Direct Link
The most important thing I've noticed while watching "Martha Stewart's Living", is how you treat Martha. When you are a guest on her program, you have to act with decorum, even if you're just showing how you make patterns on paper with glue. At the end of a segment, sometimes the beginning too, Martha will thank you for coming. Half the guests are her employees, and they especially have to follow the rules. But there's nothing that will get you uninvited from a future program, or fired, than by not saying, "Thank you, Martha" at the end of a segment.
06/03 Direct Link
Marci and I went to this huge book fair downtown. It was a mix of used booksellers, small publishing houses, ephemera, and scary bad poetry readings. It was a bad excuse to try and sell used copies of New York Times Bestsellers. It was a good reason, however, for people to sell boxes worth of old, unused postcards, tin types, old magazines, forgotten "classics" of children's literature, and strange items, including odd funeral home paper fans, World's Fair pamphlets for companies promoting toothpaste, limited run reprints of forgotten polar exploration journals, nudie girl blotters, and crumbling antique French accounting logs.
06/04 Direct Link
For about a month during the winter, I attempted to make myself like tea. I told myself, I'm going to become a "tea person". I bought nice teas, not those cheap types they "hand pick" in Boulder. I awaited the first night I would make a nice cup of tea, and enjoy it like I enjoy, say, dark chocolate. I didn't really enjoy the tea any more than I would enjoy the hottest, most humid day of the summer in New Orleans, without air conditioning. I tried many times, but failed to make myself adore tea. It just won't happen.
06/05 Direct Link
Why don't bad drivers get in more accidents, I wonder, reflecting back upon the seemingly endless stream of bad drivers I have to fight off every day. Why should people who don't use turn signals, or only use them at the last second, get out of causing plenty of accidents? It seems like people who are inept get away with murder constantly. Driving, the more I do it, tends to be a metaphor for larger social interaction. Or is it that we work out larger social interactions through our giant blood cells on wheels that we manouver through the streets?
06/06 Direct Link
What does animatronic Lincoln have that I don't have? Oh, it's all about his stiffness, that mirrors, apparently, the real man. Was it his deformity? His arthritis? His height? I can tell you that now I may lack his absurd deformities, but I can be more than modeled in fiberglass, rubber, and human hair. I can be filled with machines and wiring, with a bonus of added speakers and a prerecorded tape loop of important-sounding words and phrases. But believe me, I will be able to rotate my eyes in their sockets, unlike owls, who must turn their entire heads.
06/07 Direct Link
I'm having a dinner function with Rachel Ashwell, and some guy I don't know. Rachel has arranged the entire meal, in many courses, all designed with her "shabby chic" aesthetic in mind. The first dish is some sort of octopus water flue tube, filled with a disgusting mixture of caviar, oyster meat, and some sort of green paste. "Dig in," she tells us. The man jams his spoon in the craw, and pulls out the meat. I can't find mine, so Rachel helps. As soon as it surfaces, the man reaches over and gulps it down. The dinner is ruined.
06/08 Direct Link
I'm a famous "TV personality". Don't get me wrong, I am famous, an actual living TV star. My personality is of course entirely invented, through the magic of acting. Who I am really, is part of my acting repetoire. My real name is also my character name. I endorse products I have no interest in. I help promote things if only to drag out more decaying minutes of my fame. I have a vaguely recognizeable face. I am pleasant, not overbearing, polite. One day, I know my star will rise again. Or so my agent tells me. I am famous.
06/09 Direct Link
I realize my life has become all about cat hair now. No matter what it is, it probably has cat hair on it. And if you looked at it, and you were to think, well that looks mighty clean, you'd be wrong. There would be cat hair on it somewhere. Cat hair on clothing would seem to be the worst facet of this problem, until I divulge how much cat hair sticks to the bed. It wafts into little collections into the corners of my apartment, catches onto edges of books, sneaks in between pieces of paper. Nothing is safe.
06/10 Direct Link
I don't want to do the Hinkley thing to impress the Olsen twins. Certainly I have to prove my love for them, and the best way would be to do something special for them, like kill, or destroy, or anything, like derail a rollercoaster at a big amusement park, hopefully while they are there. I've built my shrine, I've devoted my entire life to them, and for what? For nothing, nothing. They don't know I'm alive. But I will do anything for them, because they sit, as goddesses. on the top of the tallest mountain, probably talking about their money.
06/11 Direct Link
I go into a local convenience store with the intention to get laid by an employee that I hear is easy. When I enter the store, I believe he asks me how I am, but I realize he's made a comment about being young, free, in high school, and having your parents old car to drive around in all night. He takes me into a house next door to his, which he also owns. It hasn't been touched since the early 1970s. We lay down on a bed. "All long term relationships start with one night stands," he tells me.
06/12 Direct Link
Wherever I was, I saw a huge arrow sign far away. On my walk to it, I bumped into my old friend Tera. I barely recognized her. She wanted to go with me to take photos of the arrow. When we came to the building, we found a bunch of arrow signs, most outlined with light bulbs. I fumbled with different cameras, deciding which ones to use to take photographs of arrows. For some reason my Minolta had problems with the light, even though it was bright outside. I also photographed placards on the building, without being able to focus.
06/13 Direct Link
When I wandered around a corner, I found a connecting house, and a small poodle sitting on an old shelf. An older woman wandered outside from the office. She greeted us, and showed us some fliers. There was a scrolling sign made in that weird yarn needlepoint. The image was of narwhals playing in the ocean. Apparently there was a narwhal exhibit at the aquarium in town. I couldn't believe, but the woman knew all about it -- she had made the scrolling needlepoint advertisement. The advertisement was placed, at the front door of an old office, far away from anything.
06/14 Direct Link
Driving makes me tense. People who are incompetent at driving make me crazy. Driving and not being able to do the driving of others at the same time exhausts my emotional need to be in control. When people are poor drivers, it makes me wonder about other things that they might be poor at. One little thing you have to learn how to do, get licensed to do, sometimes spend a bit of money to do, and yet you can be so bad at it you nearly cause accidents to happen almost every day. This is how babies are made.
06/15 Direct Link
Why do corporate food manufacturers have websites? Who goes to Who goes to What purpose do these sites serve? Is it because everyone and every company must have a website, because it's some rule of thumb? Just like the 100% average high school cheerleader must make a webpage, so too must a junk food company. Have you ever gone to What's the point of it? Is it educational? Is it fun? Does is serve some higher purpose that you can't possibly get off of a wrapper or out of the bag of chips itself? No, it doesn't.
06/16 Direct Link
I'm in the mountains, backing up in a parking lot. Abruptly there is fog everywhere around me, and I ram into the side of another car. When I get out of the car to see what kind of damage I've done, I see there's a woman in the car. The whole side of the car is crumpled up as if it's thick grey paper, and her legs are rendered realistically in colored pencil on it. She's angry, but in no pain. I realize that I've just caused her to become paralyzed, that she'll never walk again. She knows it too.
06/17 Direct Link
People took the four parts to the quiz inside the cave. The first time I took the quiz, I failed at the forth post. I didn't know the answer, so I ran past the mythical monster, through the tunnel, intending to escape. But the spectre of death greeted me, and wouldn't let me pass.

The second time I took the quiz, my friends and I thought we could trick the monsters by giving them two dogs we borrowed from our friend Charles. We thought, if we fail, they might take the souls of the dogs instead. But we all passed.

06/18 Direct Link
Some ideas: the head of Abraham Lincoln mounted on the body of a bird, wearing a top hat and a tie, with some sort of flag motif; scrambled maps, maps turned useless by rearranging the coordinates and roads; things to do with old Headache game dice popping cubes, separated from the game board; a jigsaw puzzle where every single piece of the puzzle is a different color; Elmer Fudd as a black man; cutting up and reassembling the picture frame on top of and "inside" the canvas; latch hook rugs turned into winter coat -- but then again, that one's free.
06/19 Direct Link
I don't like doing laundry. I would prefer to just buy new clothing all the time and never wash any of it, unless the items are like my favorite pants or t-shirts, in which case I guess I would have no choice. Maybe if I had a maid. A maid who can cook, or a cook also, because if there's anything I hate to do more than laundry, it's cook. Also, I hate to clean the litter boxes. And, I hate to clip my own toenails, but it's not because I'm fat and I can't reach my feet or anything.
06/20 Direct Link
I wonder how hot it has to get for the paint on an oil painting to begin to melt? I've always wondered. One of my favorite "Twilight Zone" episodes has a climax where the oil paint on some paintings runs down the canvases. It's very disturbing. Now that I own an oil painting, and it's nearly the middle of summer, and hot, I look over and worry. Gee, it looks a bit too shiny in that one are -- I think the paint might be starting to melt; this is how it goes, in my mind, where everything really important happens.
06/21 Direct Link
Yeti: I have to have my shoes made for me, because my feet, you know, they're so large.

Boris the Yak: I have hooves.

Yeti: My feet, they're delicate. I get blisters. The rough terrain, I get cuts from rocks if I'm not wearing shoes. And the snow, sometimes I get frostbite.

Boris the Yak: I like to eat snow.

Yeti: Everyone's always wondering, where's the yeti? Well I'll tell you, I'm sitting in my yurt, nursing my wounds. That's where I am, because even with my shoes, I have problems.

Boris the Yak: I wish I had a yurt.

06/22 Direct Link
I had to play skee-ball at a new sports bar. This bar had installed a new skee-ball game system. The ramp went through three rooms, as though it were a mini golf course. You could only walk through the front room, and cameras were set up to track the ball. After you make the holes, or not, a drag queen would retrieve the ball, and give commentary about your performance. I had to play enough games to win bets, and make enough money to buy this thing I needed. But I lost again and again, and never won any money.
06/23 Direct Link
It's nice to see that the teen musical mush rebellion is coming into power. MTV is showing videos by groups including the White Stripes, the Strokes, the Hives, and the Vines, just to name a few. While they haven't shied away from rock while products like Britney Spears and all the boy bands, it's looking as though the music industry people in power have finally become sick of all the pablum. Of course, when I reach for music I don't reach for corporate products, but when flipping past, it's nice to stop for a few minutes on music of substance.
06/24 Direct Link
At first, when I saw my cats go after the thing, I thought it was a toy. Then I realized it was a spider, one of those black widow types, but the extremely poisonous variety with the black legs and candy apple red body. How did that get in my closet, I wondered, quick to grab a book to smash it with. I ended up using a large box to crush it. I fell back asleep. When I woke up again, I found baby spiders crawling all over my blankets. Terrified, I grabbed the cats, and ran from my bedroom.
06/25 Direct Link
Today on Fox News:

"What's Really Inside Your Shoe?"
"Is The Earth Hurtling Off Its Axis?"
"Why You Should Worry About Biting Into That Pickle"
"Potpourri Recall"
"Is Broccoli Bad For You?"
"Is Pearl Cultivation Animal Cruelty?"
"Why Real Diamonds Can Cost You Much More Than Imitation Diamonds"
"Is Princess Diana Still Alive?"
"Dogs Better Than Babies?"
"How Toilet Paper Can Kill"
"Who Was That Mammy?"
"Is Man Evolving To Live Under Water?"
"How Clean Is Too Clean?"
"X-Treme Sports: Too Extreme"
"Congress Outlawing Dial Telephones"
"Babies Are Becoming Less Filthy"
"Are Tomatoes Bad For You?"
"Knives Are Too Dangerous"

06/26 Direct Link
Dante said, "I was worried someone was going to mug me, and I've got my gun in this plastic grocery bag."

I thought she wasn't going to show up. Jen and I had been walking around the neighborhood, until we were completely bored.

"We have to get to the photo studio to get our film developed," I insisted. "Today."

The sky had clouded over. "I think it's the end of the world," Jen moaned, fatalistic as always.

"It's not the end of the world."

I had to get my film from out of the trunk, but I couldn't find it.

06/27 Direct Link
She had fiber optic lighting implanted just under her skin. She wanted to glow like a deep sea fish. She wanted to be able to control the colors of the lights, and change like a squid to match her surroundings, or else just shock people to escape from harm. She had specially made opaque plastic garments to wear. She had weekly full body skin bleaching sessions. She had the color lasered out of her eyes, all of her teeth removed, and various bones replaced with flexible plastic. "I'm going to be a famous soap star one day," she told everyone.
06/28 Direct Link
Sister Wendy should be given a daily show. She can go to galleries as well as museums, and tell us about what it all means. I want to hear her talk about how the crappy work of Julien Schnabel "doesn't do anything for me", and how pointless art installations when they are dependent on place for meaning. I want to hear her express disdain for the gallery pricing system, for the proliferation of art without sacred meaning, for endless self-referential art. I want Sister Wendy to put my clothes together in the morning and suggest how I spend the day.
06/29 Direct Link
In Denver I go to the big tattoo shop on Colfax near Lafayette. I'm talking to a woman that works there, who is telling me that they're making 40% less money this month than is typical for June. I don't know why she's telling me this.

"I'm here for Al," I tell her, just as Al Snow, from the WWF, walks in.

"What are we gonna do today?" he asks.

"Tongue piercing."

We go into his part of the studio. He clamps my tongue and before I can have second thoughts, he's already pierced it and put in the barbell.

06/30 Direct Link
I've created my own new language, or maybe a few new languages, when driving. Ever since my stereo stopped working, instead of just putting the money into getting a new one, I make up my own song lyrics and my own dialogues, with invented words. There's a consistency to the words. I haven't written anything down or compiled a dictionary, which I think is the next logical step. Much of it is slang, like "eebee eebee eebee", which doesn't make as much sense without "echaw yaa yaa", obviously. It's complicated. I could probably communicate with Ewoks, if they were real.