My name's Dave. I'm working on it.

Sunday, July 30, 2006

No Name #1

Okay. Time to get back on the wagon.
Last night I was particularly drunk, visiting with old friends, and this morning I found myself in the kitchen forcing a couple glasses of Britta water down my throat. Hours later, I'm glad I did. I had closed the blinds and gave myself permission to sleep in till noon if I so desired. But something about being hungover just made me want to get up.
More than that, it made me want to stop fucking around. Don't ask me why. I woke up half an hour ago and realized that in a few hours I'm going to head off to work again, and that on a normal day this would serve as justification enough for me not to get anything done in the interim. And I just felt sick at the notion. After all (and like Valentine so succinctly pointed out) I've repeated myself quite a lot in this blog, and one of my well-worn-out statements has been that when I'm left to my own devices I won't get much done at all, especially when I have all the time in the world.
I've been on this well-intentioned but perhaps ultimately simplistic drive to organize my room, my projects, all my 'open loops' as the author calls them. Anything and everything that's on my mind, weighing me down. In my typical half-hearted way I've established a little file system divided into projects, calendar tasks, etc. The point is that for all my naïveté, I have learned something from this system: you can't ever 'do' a project. You can only do specific steps in a focused order that will, in time, result in the aforementioned project being 'done.'
Case in point: my shitty first draft of a novel. It looms and only grows more ominous and untouchable as time passes. I need to rewrite it. I need to 'do' it. Naturally, I don't know where to start, and so don't start at all.
So this system is helping me to break it down, at least.
And something about waking up this morning with a decent hangover, finding myself to be in possession of a few valium and a little capsule of MDMA (I do remember acquiring these, but nonetheless it seemed somewhat poignant), and a strong craving for french toast, has just left me ready to start to tackle it piece by piece. On a work day. That's key.
Now Elf Power's Back to the Web plays, and my dual externals sit happily and quietly next to the glow of my screen. I would do well to clean my room. But I have had lots of time to think about what Valentine said, and that's just another distraction in disguise. I know it. So let the rumpled clothes and strewn Oregonians stay where they are.
But I'll need energy. I'm gonna go make that french toast.

Hey kids.
Just wanted to let you know that Dave checks this constantly and always laments that no one comments on it. Every time he looks we all hold our breath and have to endure the subsequent whining. So for my sake, you should leave comments. If not to respond to the blog, at least to say hi. Do it for me.


  1. Like the old lady at her mailbox in Donny Darko.

  2. meeeeoooowwwww.....

  3. I'm becoming more and more curious: how many Valentines could there possibly be in Portland? I wonder...