Journal

I just came across the last photo taken of my mother, when we were in Italy together. It was taken a day or so before she passed away, and she looks so old. So, so old. :(

This movie is so incredibly good. So, so good.

“Michael. Dear Michael. Of course it’s you, who else could they send, who else could be trusted? I… I know it’s a long way and you’re ready to go to work… all I’m saying is wait, just wait, just-just-just… please hear me out because this is not an episode, relapse, fuck-up, it’s… I’m begging you Michael. I’m begging you. Try and make believe this is not just madness because this is not just madness. Two weeks ago I came out of the building, okay, I’m running across Sixth Avenue, there’s a car waiting, I got exactly 38 minutes to get to the airport and I’m dictating. There’s this, this panicked associate sprinting along beside me, scribbling in a notepad, and suddenly she starts screaming, and I realize we’re standing in the middle of the street, the light’s changed, there’s this wall of traffic, serious traffic speeding towards us, and I… I-I freeze, I can’t move, and I’m suddenly consumed with the overwhelming sensation that I’m covered with some sort of film. It’s in my hair, my face… it’s like a glaze… like a… a coating, and… at first I thought, oh my god, I know what this is, this is some sort of amniotic – embryonic – fluid. I’m drenched in afterbirth, I’ve-I’ve breached the chrysalis, I’ve been reborn. But then the traffic, the stampede, the cars, the trucks, the horns, the screaming and I’m thinking no-no-no-no, reset, this is not rebirth, this is some kind of giddy illusion of renewal that happens in the final moment before death. And then I realize no-no-no, this is completely wrong because I look back at the building and I had the most stunning moment of clarity. I… I… I… I realized Michael, that I had emerged not from the doors of Kenner, Bach, and Ledeen, not through the portals of our vast and powerful law firm, but from the asshole of an organism whose sole function is to excrete the… the-the-the poison, the ammo, the defoliant necessary for other, larger, more powerful organisms to destroy the miracle of humanity. And that I had been coated in this patina of shit for the best part of my life. The stench of it and the stain of it would in all likelihood take the rest of my life to undo. And you know what I did? I took a deep cleansing breath and I set that notion aside. I tabled it. I said to myself as clear as this may be, as potent a feeling as this is, as true a thing as I believe that I have witnessed today, it must wait. It must stand the test of time. And Michael, the time is now.”

About four or five years ago I bought a new phone, the Sony Ericsson K750 (click the image to see more details) and it performed less than stellarly, but it performed decently at a decent price. After years of abuse, all kinds of stuff stopped working. Like the joypad, which is why I recommend everyone to send me short SMS’s because I can’t scroll down any more. The latest thing to break is the vibration function, which means it now only gives me blinking lights (since I absolutely detest ringtones, I always keep it on silent) when there’s an incoming call or SMS. This means that I quite frequently miss calls. I’ve already gotten pretty used to checking to see if I had missed anything over the last year or so as the vibrate function kept dying on me, but it’s really really dead now. Somewhere in the coming few weeks I’m going to buy a new phone. I’ve set my sights on the new iPhone 3Gs, which would allow me to combine two of the four things that I always carry around with me; my phone and my iPod Touch. I’m pretty excited.

So, if in the coming few weeks I don’t immediately pick up my phone when you call, expect a call back later on. :)

I woke up really early today (when I really shouldn’t have) to watch UFC 100. I was very excited about the card, and I wasn’t disappointed, some very exciting fights. Some quick thoughts:

• I’m very disappointed by Mir’s performance.
• Even though the fight was awesome and I like Sexyama, but I think Belcher got robbed.
• GSP is the man. Hope his injury heals soon.
• What a perfect ending to the Hendo/Bisping fight!
• I have a soft spot for Bonnar, so I was sorry to see him lose.
• Kim won. Hells yeah.
• Jon Fitch is a worker and deserved the win.

Best line:
*in between the third and fourth round*
GSP: “I pulled my groin.”
Greg Jackson: “I don’t care! Hit him with it!”
GSP: “…okay.”