|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Monday September 25, 2000
"There's a whiff of the lynch mob or the lemming migration about any over-large concentration of like-thinking individuals, no matter how virtuous their cause." P.J. O'Rourke, Parliamnent of Whores
50's vision--for sale on ebay |
|
when work is a vision I've mentioned that I'm in the vision game. So I spend some time matching up my vision to that of others in the game. Then, of course, what really happens depends on people doing real work. It should scare visionaries if other visionaries agree with them. Instead, it makes us feel right and validated. I stop by the parents' house on the way to work. Dad is well into the bird game. He's defeated the squirrel interloper with additional red pepper. He's identified most of the feathered guys but can't find his Texas bird book to trace one. They say you live longer if you are interested in things. They are proof of this, my parents. Mom says two missing pink towels must be with the bird book. She gets another lesson in dialing up the ISP on her computer. She gets messages sent but I have to get on her mail and resend them because she invariably makes 'corrections' to the e-mail address that pops up. She's trying, though. She wants badly to be able to communicate with e-mail. She senses the importance and immediacy of it. She hasn't really discovered the wonders of the WEB. Whether this is good or bad, I don't know. Work rocks along. I'm not feeling very productive. Some of the pressure is off of things and I need to set my own deadlines. However, it's good for a visionary to have time to sit and ponder. I do some of this. Companies shouldn't have pep rallies. They do, though. All of them. I don't know why I feel they shouldn't. People need to be motivated, I guess. They make me feel sad, though. In good times or bad. The cool weather is wonderful. SuRu and I have some greasy Mexican food at lunch. We agree to do an evening dog walk in honor of the weather. I wear a sweatshirt over my shirt for the dog walk. Wow! We walk to 40th street and then I decide we should go to Starbucks on Lamar. We do, but when we get there every outside table is taken so we don't stop. I didn't really want a coffee. Just a destination. I try to keep Chalow out of burrs and leaves since she's been taken to the groomer by her daddy and looks very beautiful and clean and fluffy. A dinner of salad, a little Olympics, the Monday New York Times crossword and I'm dozing in my chair. I read about athletes from poorer nations taking advantage of the free medical care in Olympic village. I doze. I dream of visiting athletes in dark quarters. Some are gaunt and old. Each has a magnificent metal coat hanger, a handcrafted work of art, hanging on the back of the door.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
