The Webs We Weave

Sober (Hung-Over) Note: This particular entry was made last night without internet service and commissioned for This Improvised Life an improvised satire of This American Life. It will be performed live at the Historic Univeristy Theater, 5510 University Way, Seattle, WA on Friday, January 23rd, 2009 at 8:00 pm (produced by Wing-It Porductions).

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Hello. Hallo. And suddenly without warning I’m inclined to apologise.

1) For being drunk.
2) For- my stomach is moving.
3) For I had to take the cap to the Scandisk out of mouth. (I need to remember and this is the only way I will carry I with me.)

I just deleted a spelling mistake. 2 actaully. Well really 3 but now they will be left in. (For the most part) What do you want from me?

So I’m quite certain I weave an aura of coolness which I am really not entitled to. I’m neither smart nor smooth. I’m nothing special in your face. Asking- beggin if I can hang out.

I would love love love to be part of whoyoou are. Whoever you are. But I have very little too offer. I though when I was young It would be garet to be a jcak of all trades. I realize now that a jack of all trade specializes in nothing. I thought if I could do everything a little bit, “how great would that be?” it turns out not so great at all. And now Iam mired in a educational pit. I wold love to study chemistry. Or trigonometry. Or geometry. Or there still geometers? Or trigonometeurs? I wonder if there are even still Geographers? Where do the hard sciences go before they meld into philosphpy? String theory (seems to me (on my most basic readings of the subject)) a wild phil\osphy of matter. I would love to help though. I feel I have quite an imagination (Although it is always stuck in anarchinsism and archaism). What will I do? Oh what will I do?

I have an offer. I have an offer and I hope it settles my April and may. God I would love it. I already knmow. IN these turbulent times my life remains mostly the same.

I need to go to bed. Because she’ lying there. And I love her. And she breaks my heart when she sleeps. Worse than Banjo and accordian in minor. She has power I cannot grasp. I love her though. And I will lay down next to her. I love you too though. And goodnight.