You might even say that I have reservations in both senses of the term. An appointment and an apprehension.
As of this writing, it's a quarter past two in the morning. I haven't been able to sleep for the past couple of days. Ever since I've started this blog, in fact. Maybe it's coincidence. I've been going through some rough bits that, believe it or not, have very little to do the occult. That is, unless there's a cult of pretentious douches that have hypnotic powers over girls that I just happen to have crushes on at the time.
Take the vowels out of FEMALE, and what's that spell?
My dad also received a bit of bad news today. I won't go into it, as it's kind of personal and familial, but either way, money is now, somehow, even tighter, and my hatred for capitalism has, somehow, grown even more vehement.
The day before yesterday, I plunked myself right in front of my computer and spent the day reading Zen koans. I shared a few with AJ, who warned me that that these sort of things are going to melt my brain.
Let's take a look at a few:
Huìnéng asked Hui Ming, "Without thinking of good or evil, show me your original face before your mother and father were born."
A monk asked Dongshan Shouchu, "What is Buddha?" Dongshan said, "Three pounds of flax."
A monk asked Zhaozhou, "What is the meaning of Bodhidharma's coming from the west?" Zhaozhou said, "The cypress tree in front of the hall."
Brain oozing our your ears yet? Don't worry, that's just the enlightenment kicking in! The point of a Koan is that there really are no answers. You just ponder them and ponder them until something clicks, and you either reach Nirvana, or go insane. It's like Cthulu in word form.
So in a few hours, I'm going to be gallivanting off to Los Angeles, on the eve of what the news promises to be a logistical nightmare of apocalyptic proportions.
I've always had mixed feelings about Los Angeles (Mozilla's spell check doesn't even recognize it as a real word). On one hand, it's kind of the dominating exporter of culture where I live, which is kind of cool. I mean, what better place for a guy who wants to entertain people for a living to live then less than an hour's drive away from Hollywood? On the other hand, it's a dull and ugly city with little soul or life of its own, not to mention having probably the most uninspiring skyline of any major metropolis. One of the few really unique aspects of LA is how it was built around car culture. There is no "walking distance" to anything. You drive! That is an order! No subways, no EL trains, no cable cars, and hardly a buss fleet worth speaking of to help you, just drive, drive, drive!
I know this rant is kind of out of left field, but it's 2:30 in the morning. Also I'm going to be stuck out there the day before one of the two major arteries in and out of a city where everyone drives is going to be shut down. Carmageddon, indeed!
Or maybe I'm just saying this to avoid thinking about the fact that I'm going to a place I've never been to meet a person (or persons) I've never seen, nor do I know anything about other than the fact that they smashed my car up the last time I ignored them and seem to to be tied to some sort of mystic bullcrap. And considering that the last time mystic bullcrap was involved with someone I know, she almost got sacrificed to a Lovecraftian horror in Prada.
But it's not like I've got a choice. Like any good protagonist, I must initially resist the call to action, but the call knows where I live. And it is damned determined. So I'm going. Not sure what time as the flier didn't specify. I'd like to take my sweet time. Make him wait. That'll teach him for breaking my window! Not too late, though. I'm going to be in one of those areas that you really don't want to find yourself alone in after dark. Squishy little suburban craker like me wouldn't survive an hour!
Either way, I'm not looking forward to this.