If only I could change perspective in time.

If only the door on the medicine cabinet would swing open a few degrees in time, revealing the madman before he buried the red fireaxe between the starlet’s scapulae.

If only it occurred to you in time that no, you don’t have to take this shit from this person at this time.

Shaving this morning, I paused and wondered if lonely people, when they are adults, have invisible friends or if they, like I just had in the shower [those of you who have seen American Beauty are going Ew right now, aren't you?] have whole invisible pubs they go to, where they sit down and strike up conversations, or allow conversations to be struck up, that they never would or at least never end up doing in real life.

Do you do this? Sit down for a drink in your imaginary bar and someone sits down at your table, This seat taken?, and from the way the regulars are ignoring this person, you know that they must be a bit odd if not dangerous, and very possibly dangerous. At my bar, the person is often Howard Hughes. But before I can ask him about Gwen Stefani or what it’s like to wander around Death Valley he’s explaining my life to me.

Saying things like, You must dig up the .38 from where you buried it in greasy rags beneath the bridge and complete your mission.

No, he says things like, What did you expect? Have an insight into your life and They give you a prize, whoever They are? Things suddenly get easier? That’s magical thinking, pal.

And a bunch of other stuff.

• They’re the first to forgive you, so it’s okay.

• They know it’s a dangerous job when they take it.
• They don’t usually laugh when you tell them their sexual position is one of your favorites.
• They can still perform simple household tasks, even after the lobotomy; such as scramble eggs? Although you do usually have to remind them to stop when they’re finished, and you would want to do the actual cooking yourself, due to the hot burner and all.

We apparently had missionaries at the door recently, but I was in my shop at the time and Alpha answered the door and sent them on their merry way as she is wont to do. I tend to chat with them for a while. With telephone salespeople it’s the other way around. I say things like, “Whoa, the baby’s let the alligator out of the tank again, gotta dash,” while Alpha sometimes gets snagged.

I went out at lunch to buy paints for Gamma for the weekend, one-liter bottles of poster paints. This requires driving cross town to the big art supply store I just love so, so much, so so much, which in turn involves getting inconsolably lost in lunchtime Vienna traffic, which is not as bad as say lunchtime Mexico City traffic or lunchtime Jakarta traffic, but is bad enough for me. Also I forgot to eat lunch so I’m hungry now.

But I have the paints.

And I saw a guy washing a big bronze statue of the Pope. Scrubbing it good.

http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=the%20path%20to%20enlightenment

I take a pitcher just in case.

Alpha: And I’ll give you guys my frequent-flyer card so you can go into the lounge at the airport when you go to America.
Gamma: Yay! Do they have cool music in the lounge?
Alpha: Erm…
Gamma: And disco lights?
Alpha: Not really.
Gamma: Drinks? Cool sofas?
Alpha: Well, beverages. Sofas, yes.
Gamma: Pff. No music? No lights? What kind of lounge is that?

“withus oragainstus”

[Via Peace Dividend]

Long weekend. Four days melt together in my mind. Random images:

• Up at 3.30 on Easter morning when Gamma’s alarm clock unexpectedly rings. Alpha catches it before it wakes Gamma. We stay up, hide eggs, baskets in back yard. Go back to sleep.

• Gamma wakes us up at 7.20 Easter morning with report of finding baskets, eggs, presents.
• Leaning against sink, drinking coffee, wondering where the night went, listen to conversation between Gamma and her mother. “I feel sorry for people without children on Easter,” Alpha says. “Yes, like Aunt X,” Gamma says. “I wonder what she’s doing? Sailing or playing golf?” “I’d guess playing golf,” Alpha says.
• Drive Gamma and her friend to what I will call Gemstone World, a theme park devoted to a certain gem. Multi-media exhibit. Gift shoppe. Tour, including a look at the vein of the gemstone underground. Alpha asks guide, so, the jewelry in the shop is all made from gems dug here? No, he says, they would fall apart. Which explains the theme park: how else to earn money from worthless gems? I pay