Wait, what was I saying? Yeah, I don't know, you can stop waiting. in Normal entries

I didn’t write here the other day. I don’t feel like I broke a code of conduct. Yeah, clumsy phrase, but the less clumsy one is less precise; ashamed. I wouldn’t have been ashamed if I spent the day eating bon-bons and watching soap operas. I’m too fucking old and world weary to be shamed by anything uncomplicated and certainly by missing an arbitrary deadline. There is the intent of the law and the letter of the law and that applies to all rules public and private. The intent of writing again every day was to force process, put galoshes on my brain and trudge through the thick mud. That intent was met in a different way. Nobody really gives a fuck about the letter of the law. Well, nobody whose opinion on such matters I respect. Ok, nobody whose opinion respect in such matters who is under 85 years old.

Did I mention I was overexposed to carbon monoxide, and, for all practical purposes probably have carbon monoxide poisoning? The poisoning bit sounds a bit over dramatic, but I think it’s true. No? I didn’t mention it? Well, the carbon monoxide meter read pretty dang high.

For that reason alone I almost cancelled my outing with the lads, was considering cancelling up until the last minute. I’m glad I didn’t. It was actually pretty cool. If I was too make negative generalizations about my two very dear friends as it applied to the proposed trip it’d be that the one intellectualizes shit too much and the other struggles with abstract concepts. I’m likely spot on but it’s shitty to say and I love those guys and I would love them no matter how many flaws they had, and those two generalizations are true of ninety percent of everyone I’ve ever met. We all do some compartmentalizing, it keeps us from going nuts, as far as compartments go, those two particular ones make sense.

Psycho-geography as a general concept takes a delicate touch and a balance between abstract and empirical and emotional and intellectual and a healthy dose of empathy. Fortunately we did something more fluid with less boundaries and it was very cool. We went to places we had gone when we were teens together. One of them was just gone, the other two were there but different. The conversation, memories and dry eyed laugh out loud funny nostalgia was, I don’t know, pretty cool. We ended the day of wandering with kung pao shrimp, well, I did, Joe had that clay pot Korean dish that sounds like biddilee boop and louis had bean curd noodles.

It’s not a journey I would have made by myself and there is no one else on this planet that could have made that journey make any sense. We also flipped between the past present and future seamlessy. It’s important. Or it is to me. It was the type of trip that could easily have stayed in the past which, I think, eventually, would have just been maudlin. I could tell you the exact events, but it’s about places you don’t know, aren’t quite there anymore, and the emotional context of people who no longer exist. Sure, I exist, and I’m typing this, but the kid who was out there with his buddies, he’s long gone. Not being maudlin, I don’t miss him, we are supposed to grow up, that’s how the adventure continues.

It’s not, however, what I think of when I think of psycho-geography. Instead of places imbued with emotional content from the viewer, I think more of places that, objectively, have their own emotional content. I can’t type about it without sounding like a new age crystal licker, but I know places on this continent and the European continent where power and feelings leech from the ground and air into the place where you keep your emotions; they don’[t need content, the place itself IS the content. I’ve done a lot more of that than what we did yesterday, it makes the trip yesterday precious in its scarcity.

This was hard to write. Carbon monoxide, it’s hard to concentrate for long and there’s the hammer beating behind my left eye. Christ I hope it’s carbon monoxide poisoning, otherwise it’s some bad neurological crazy shit. Ok, have fun, don’t get into stuff, or, if you can’t not get into stuff, don’t get caught, or, you know, mention my name. In general not mentioning my name does you more good than harm, in some places my name will get you the weekend in the county bilt.