Fire it up

I'm watching COPS right now. There is a white woman who looks like she has a beard and there are some other people barbecuing a giant steak and now a skinny white cop is yelling to beard lady, "Give me your ID! How hard is that to understand?" Good times.

Love me the COPS. Not sure how it all fits together, but Lord knows it's connected to the rest of us. Today I hung a picture of Hunter S Thompson on my office wall. I am wondering how long it's going to be before someone says something. Not sure that there are any people in there who know what he stood for. I don't know if I know what he stood for, but there is something about his persona that is engaging. A very compelling man, he is.

We moved into a smaller office yesterday. There is a wall between Wayne and I now. Literally, I mean. Figuratively is up for discussion.

Pretty sad still. Don't know why. The war? Doubt it, but it plays well with the liberals. Lack of prayer in schools? Doubtful, but it plays well with the conservatives. I wonder if some of my problem is that I believe that my life is a narrative, when in fact it very well could be the paper the narrative is written on. Let me try again: I feel that if I somehow pull myself out of space and time and observe with a scientist's/poet's/bohemian's eye it would make sense. But what if it didn't (or isn't supposed to)? What if from my imagined vantage point there was the same amount of confusion as from here and instead of an anthill (which, though chaotic, has purpose), it looked like an anthill on fire, with every ant and reason purposed for survival and that was it? And the ants didn't like the thought of dying for no purpose and created God and family and love? That would be a reason to be sad.

For a minute there, I lost myself.