Def. keep notes w/ deets

(June 15, 2004)

Goddammit.

I keep this sort of notebook thing in which I jot ideas for this collection of randomness we call Jungle Sweet Jungle, for short stories and, dare I say, song lyrics. Half-formed oddball sentences and inspirations that fly from wherever. The problem is, WHERE I keep those hastily scribbled bits of genius is always changing. I lose teeny scratch pads, and big pads are too cumbersome, plus sometimes the notebook doesn' t quite FEEL right.

I've always been like this. In school as a child I had to have college-ruled paper and a black pen or I could not write.

The latest incarnation of "my notebook" was a torn-out piece of yellow legal paper. On this yellow paper, I had a really good jot-fest going. And I lost it. I was PLANNING to flesh out some of what I was thinking today. From that. But I LOST IT. I've looked everywhere.

Eh. Just as well.

Because sometimes when I re-read these ideas I jot down, which had been an exquisitely beautiful juxtaposition of truth, irony and clever wordplay, I can't even fathom my own inanity. What did I mean, and why was it worth writing down for chrissakes.

Ex. what makes T drivers so pissy, Comm. rail guy sweet? Long train = no att.? One car = mad guy? Penis envy equ. train length envy.

Chap. elbow, spl ends only women worry about, men take notice but don't have/care; men w/ pores like potato garden.

I'ma go read a cheap paperback from a bag of free books I found on the street in Allston.