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June 21st, 2002

"How they chatter, how they bore us,
like some avant-garde-ish chorus,
just give it back, no questions asked"
Ron Mael, from "Complaints"

I hate it when I feel entitlements to have things as to which no scripture or government document actually refers. But when I order a service that I have dependably ordered for years in the past, and the service provider advises me that a "key ingredient" of the service was never available, notwithstanding the fact that said "key ingredient" has always been part of my service, I do wonder if I have awakened in a parellel universe (sadly, one in which that cute girl in 7th grade still stood me up when she reneged on the St. Patrick's Day banquet). You know, the universe in which everything you thought was true is no longer true. Kinda like the bizarro universe from the Superman comics, only without the neat cubist artwork and wonderful inverted conceptualization.
No, this is my circle of hell, only someone has removed one of the bunsen burners--and it was a bunsen burner that radiated a heat I kind of liked.

The worst thing about defeated purchasing expectations is
the person I become in my chagrin. The sort of person who says "I've always gotten this *before*". In short, the sort of person who feels as thought he's awakened in a parellel universe, but one which (a) doesn't have the thing he felt entitled to purchase but (b) in which his senior prom date still only wanted to dance to the fast songs. I don't want to be that "frustrated consumer" guy. I've *done* that role.
I need to expand into the comic and leading man roles.
But what do you do when what you've always gotten you can no longer get? Well, you get along, that's what you do.

subdued

I left work at 6:30 tonight, stepping outdoors under a sky that had gone suddenly storm-cloud blue. The light wind blew cottonwood seeds everywhere, like so much cotton candy snow floating around me, as if I were in a dream. I drove past fields of what we call sunflowers, though I think that people who know may call them something else, like coreopsis. On the way to the Pakistani place for dinner, my wife pointed out a rainbow in the eastern sky. It pointed upward, as if it had a purpose, but we gave it all the purpose that we needed from it. Red and white and pink crape myrtle trees and shrubs bloom everywhere. The sound of small bullfrogs made a tenor sax cacophony around the small park pond tonight. The moon was nearly full. Three children stopped and greeted us as we strolled by, enchanted by the chance to be friendly while watchful parents smiled. Their parents then said "how're y'all dewin?", to which I instinctively replied "Fiiiine, jest fiiine, how 'bout y'all?". I get so tired of saying what I think sometimes. Sometimes I want to stare at the moon, and hunt for the planet Venus shining bright nearby. That person in me
who can savor the simple pleasure of living--that's a man I like. But I only hear from him when I am very quiet. He can only come for transitory moments--I am not a silent man. But when he visits, I greet him within me, and revel in his presence.