Still stalling. Actually, what I’ve been doing – for a minute here and a minute there – is transcribing my old journal from Cuba onto my computer. Boy did I used to be an idiot. I used to care about things so much. sigh.

Everything’s been non-stop crazy since coming back to San Diego. Lots of work, lots of errands, lots of traffic. Not that we don’t have traffic in Monterrey. Gonzalitos blvd might as well be called trafficalitos blvd., but it’s so much more enjoyable there. Just like the lucha libre. You fuck with people and they fuck with you and by the time all the fucking is over, you’re at work.

Here it’s just seriousness and stiff lips. No eye contact, no screeching tires, no pretending to side-swipe someone, no fun.

Plus, I no longer sleep. Not that I’m one to protest sleep … I’m such a big fan, was a big fan even before they were on Pitchfork, but lately we just haven’t been getting along for whatever reason. I dunno. It’s hard for me to break it to sleep, but I just don’t need him around anymore. I stay up until 1, 2 in the morning and then comes along 6:30 or 7 and something inside me is compelled to greet them wide-eyed. Maybe it’s the crack.

Much of my midnight to 2 a.m. time is spent reading. I used to have this rule … in fact, I still should … that I’m only allowed to check out one book from the library at a time. Two under exceptional circumstances. But for so long I’d check out four books at a time and of course I’d only read 3/4 of the first one and then punish myself with late fees.

Anyway, I take back what I said about ‘used to being an idiot’ ’cause things never change quite as much as we think they do. Which probably played an influence on me checking out four books from the library the other day. Four books even though I was only half way through The Brothers Karamazov which reads about as fast as all the crazy old people who shouldn’t be driving around my hood.

But I needed a break from this Dostoyevsky kid so I started reading The Clandestine Diary of an Ordinary Iraqi by Salam Pax, which is actually a blog, but on paper. This, I thought, was a crappy idea, but once again, I was so wrong. For whatever reason I never got into the craze surrounding Where is Raed? even though most bloggers were mentioning him at least as often as I mention my gastrointestinal happenings. I probably checked out a couple posts, but something I’ve noticed is that when I come to a blog with 200 or 300 comments after every post, I get turned off. Maybe it’s penis envy.

But man, this guy’s great. And reading a blog in a book is so much better than reading it on a screen. Everything comes together so much clearer and more effective when you read through an entire year of some person’s life in just a couple hours. It made me think, I’ve been reading so many blogs for almost two years now that I’m sure, in all, I’ve read dozens of what would be ‘blog books.’ But I wonder if the reading would be more meaningful if I actually read them as blogs instead of ADHD mouse clicking every five minutes. Like just this morning I was reading a post by EMC about running on the beach and I was totally entranced and yet even so I still had to physically hold back my index finger so I wouldn’t click away.

Ok, I’m late … I realize this post is completely unsatisfactory which is why I leave you with a picture of HP kissing Cindylu. There’s a picture of HP kissing me too (which is why I look so happy below), but you have to paypal me $10 for a copy. I don’t think I’m supposed to post this picture because it’s a game killer for Cindylu … but really, can you kill her game?

alf, cin, oso