i love love, but i don't hate hate
I woke up already two hours late for work and rushed to the train station. I showed up wearing the same exact clothes as yesterday (I slept in them) and smelling of alcohol. I couldn't find my boss right away so I clocked in and went for the much needed water. I found him near there, at the freight elevator. He was talking to the elevator operator about something. Sports I think. I waited patiently while fleshing out an excuse. Halfway through their conversation he turns to me and says "The checks aren't up yet, they'll be up in a little while." He didn't even notice that I hadn't been there all day. (Later) "Mark, can I talk to you about something?" Fuck! I don't want deal with this right now. But, no, instead he just wants to let me know that he's giving me a raise. One quarter. "Don't say anything, no one else is getting one." Nod and smile, say "thank you." I treated myself to a Subway sandwich.
Then I started thinking, this is a little odd. Yesterday was complete and utter shit and now this: I can come in hours late without anyone being the wiser and I'm already getting a raise after only three weeks? Too good to be true. Satan's trying something. Well probably not Satan himself, one of his field soldiers. A field soldier who isn't too smart. Mark Dunne won't be swayed by money. I bet I would have been offered a virgin or two if I had been paying attention, who knows.
Either way tomorrow is my last day in NYC, and I can't wait. I still have to figure out how to get to the Newark airport, Dan didn't know. He said there's probably a bus from Port Authority. I'll find out.
I love being hungover, I really actually do. Unless it involves a headache or nausea. But being hungover gives you a different perspective on things and makes you react differently. I like it. I become more no-nonesense and decisive about situations and people. Oh well I can't really describe it.
I bought Investigating Sex: Surrealist Discussions 1928-1932, it's really good. I've been reading bits at work. It's not really to teach you anything about sex, but it's more to investigate sex and sexual desire trying to understand it.
the book begins:
ANDRÉ BRETON: A man and a woman make love. To what extent is the man aware of the woman's orgasm? Tanguy?
YVES TANGUY: Hardly at all.
It's also become, for me, a way to learn more about these surrealist artists (André Breton, Louis Aragon, Max Ernst, and Man Ray among many other people) as people. It's really great, André Breton started it I believe. He's really instigative and hates homosexuality. I want to learn more about Louis Aragon and Raymond Queneau. Breton's funny in it, very entertaining. I believe it was him that once said the greatest surrealist act would be to point a loaded pistol at a crowd and fire. I agree with him very much, or whoever it was that said it. It's too bad Georges Bataille wasn't involved with this, at least I haven't seen his name yet. That would be very interesting indeed. I'm sure it would lead to Breton punching him in the face. Anyway I'll leave you with this
ANDRÉ BRETON: Nevertheless, the question is far from settled. If in a discussion of shame one can claim that by definition it is impossible to overcome one's own shame, there is no way of continuing.
LOUIS ARAGON: What a shame you're so inhibited!
ANDRÉ BRETON: What wit!
LOUIS ARAGON: What is wit?
BENJAMIN PÉRET: Third-rate humour.
ANDRÉ BRETON: And systematic obstruction
Then I started thinking, this is a little odd. Yesterday was complete and utter shit and now this: I can come in hours late without anyone being the wiser and I'm already getting a raise after only three weeks? Too good to be true. Satan's trying something. Well probably not Satan himself, one of his field soldiers. A field soldier who isn't too smart. Mark Dunne won't be swayed by money. I bet I would have been offered a virgin or two if I had been paying attention, who knows.
Either way tomorrow is my last day in NYC, and I can't wait. I still have to figure out how to get to the Newark airport, Dan didn't know. He said there's probably a bus from Port Authority. I'll find out.
I love being hungover, I really actually do. Unless it involves a headache or nausea. But being hungover gives you a different perspective on things and makes you react differently. I like it. I become more no-nonesense and decisive about situations and people. Oh well I can't really describe it.
I bought Investigating Sex: Surrealist Discussions 1928-1932, it's really good. I've been reading bits at work. It's not really to teach you anything about sex, but it's more to investigate sex and sexual desire trying to understand it.
the book begins:
ANDRÉ BRETON: A man and a woman make love. To what extent is the man aware of the woman's orgasm? Tanguy?
YVES TANGUY: Hardly at all.
It's also become, for me, a way to learn more about these surrealist artists (André Breton, Louis Aragon, Max Ernst, and Man Ray among many other people) as people. It's really great, André Breton started it I believe. He's really instigative and hates homosexuality. I want to learn more about Louis Aragon and Raymond Queneau. Breton's funny in it, very entertaining. I believe it was him that once said the greatest surrealist act would be to point a loaded pistol at a crowd and fire. I agree with him very much, or whoever it was that said it. It's too bad Georges Bataille wasn't involved with this, at least I haven't seen his name yet. That would be very interesting indeed. I'm sure it would lead to Breton punching him in the face. Anyway I'll leave you with this
ANDRÉ BRETON: Nevertheless, the question is far from settled. If in a discussion of shame one can claim that by definition it is impossible to overcome one's own shame, there is no way of continuing.
LOUIS ARAGON: What a shame you're so inhibited!
ANDRÉ BRETON: What wit!
LOUIS ARAGON: What is wit?
BENJAMIN PÉRET: Third-rate humour.
ANDRÉ BRETON: And systematic obstruction