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April 19th, 2003

Dial New York
Back from breakfast, a bit tipsy (as in dizzy), looking around the apartment realizing I have guests coming, then realizing these are two guys on motorcycles: throw them some seared beef, show them a comfortable chair, they won't care, knives and forks optional. If this really meant something to me I'd be doing something about it. I'd have done something about it. (I could throw some of this stuff on my desk into a big box and hide it on top of the other boxes, though, the stuff I've been planning to read or file or throw in the trash. Moan. I could blame it on the vertigo. There's always something you can blame it on in Oakland.)

I read a column in the business section of the paper this morning about writing down your goals (it stressed achievable goals). Odd place to find something to catch my interest, but it's happened before. What have I done with the "fantasies" (if they're not written down, they're fantasies, says the article) I've been toying with and writing about here? Two new computers, one a file server, one a firewall, both of them goals of a sort in the sense I wanted to learn something specific by assembling them and networking them, the web cam, for example, would plug right in, both are gathering dust. Better to have bought decent furniture. You can sit on decent furniture. You can sit on indecent furniture. You can sit down on these particular computers too, if you're careful, but they're not comfortable.

I will say in your defense the prostate and the dizzy head have kept you preoccupied.

Oh, yeah, but what was my excuse before? It said write down ten goals. I can do that. Lay out a set of steps and accomplish them. I can do that. Will I do that? Do I care?

No, of course not, but life is not a list on a piece of paper. Life is a cheese sandwich on a beach on a southern island, the wind warm, the afternoon sun low on the horizon. Does that sound like Oakland?

Well, OK. (One who was enlightened could find Oakland in that description. Or Philadephia. One would have to work at it. Don Juan, maybe even Carlos would know. There is a there here in Oakland, contrary to public perception.) So I air out the apartment, at least. Take a swipe at the bathroom. Put the dishes in the washer, push the button. Go whole hog. Then check the film scanner that failed last night. An easily achievable goal, that one. Pick up a phone. Dial New York.

The film scanner is kaput and B & H is closed this coming week for Passover. No pictures for a while.