Photographs. Everything can be faked.

My perceptions. They lie. Also, the accuracy of memory. I remember remembering things. Like Russian doll memories. But how many times has memory changed the thing itself?

Magazines with more than one exclamation point on the cover. News programs that look like prime time TV shows. And now they almost all do. I thought I was watching a preview for next week’s episode of 24. It was a commercial for the news.

Good fortune. I am unlucky because I expect to be unlucky. Every silver lining has a rain cloud. Fate. I believe in patterns and rhythm and a general concept, I suppose, of a plan. But fate, insomuch as it might impact me, not so much. I don’t think the plan is that micromanaged. People who say “micromanage”. Creationism. The Big Bang theory.

Routine. Stability. Habit.

Emailing resumes.

Skinny chefs, portly aerobic instructors. Prosthelitizers. The blithely happy. Anybody who has never had a cold. Anyone over 20 who has never tried a cigarette. People who never complain. People who always complain. A woman’s promises. A man’s boasting.

It might make me sexist, I’m not sure, but if I’m honest, I’d have to say female bosses. The usefulness of hysteria-mongering words: sexist, racist, terrorist.

My libido. It makes the regular mistakes. Or it made the regular mistakes. And often. Flattery.

Anyone following me down a stairwell.

Spam. But not enough (see last weekend). Shampoo/conditioners. Decaf. What’s the point?

SS