Fifteen Minutes Means Nothing

So this guy at the office came into work the other day with an orange face and hands. I looked at him and started laughing out loud at him. He had applied one of those iodine based tanning agents so that he would look better in the pictures at the wedding he was attending.

It looked to me like his hands were covered with nicotine stains or shit - maybe a combinationof both. His face was almost clown-like. It was literally orange and because of his red coloured hair it looked as if he and drank far too much carrotjuice.

Other people in the office made comments to me about it and we all talked about it for a few minutes. Everyone agreed it was a pretty wacked out thing to do. I guess it is perfect evidence that some people are literally uncomfortable in their own skin.

So there isn't much more to say about it except that society is pretty out of control. I can't imagine that putting orange die on my face would make me feel more confident or cock-sure about looking good in pictures but then again I'm not 24 years old. Still the concept of it all just weirds me out - to think that a person would have a need or desire to do such a thing to themselves thinking it was an improvement.

The rest of the week has been uneventful. Nothing has really happened besides my active interest in writing more frequently. Too bad it only happens in spurts.

This weekend Daniela and I are planning to go to Centre Island on Saturday. I hope to spend most of the day writing and eating, basking in the September sun and goose shit. I hope that there aren't going to be any South Asian festivals. Rumor has it they travel to the island in droves and cook up squirrels on those tiny Hibachis. The sound of jingling bangles and burnt rodent meat can be really distracting. This is inappropriate talk isn't it. Well all I want out of the Saturday is a tiny slice of goose shit free grass and a picnic table I can sit at to eat my dead chicken on.

I will write a few pages longhand on one of the yellow steno pads I bought at Staples in a bulk. At least I hope to write - It has been long enough now and I need to get back to the book - The one I have been working on for two years. The one that is going to be a big success. The one that will make me famous and rich and I will be able to eat raw oysters for breakfast in my marble hot tub while my wife shops relentlessly for shoes.

My cats seem to be a little bit needier than usual. It may be because I spent the last week at home with them so now they are pining for me. I like the attention - but sometimes it makes me feel guilty the way they rely on me for affirmation and affection. I like to give it to them frequently but they do have a tendency to be demanding.

Poor things they just want to be loved.

Big post today - much ado about nothing.