These are the lines that have no homes. The e-mail records from last year were lost in the Great Hard Drive Crash of May. An attempt has been made to reconstruct the "context."
a pawn of capitalists
I think I was expressing my weakness in the face of material goods. I believe I had just spent a lot of money at a CD store and was bemoaning my materialism.
$40 for a back massage
I was telling Chris about the "Debauchery" party at Machado House in the spring of 1996. For those unfamiliar, this was the party where everyone was given $100 of play money and let loose. The person with the most money at 1 AM won a TV. Most people were either spenders or earners. I was a spender, but whereas most people used their money to make others humiliate themselves, I spent my money to get a back massage from a pretty girl.
I need a literary hero
I'd just finished a binge of Kerouac reading. I'd read On the Road and The Dharma Bums, and quit Desolation Angels in disgust because the Zen stuff was getting lame. Having abandoned Kerouac and before that Hunter S. Thompson, I have no modern authors to look up to. . . dead people like Coleridge and Dante Gabriel Rossetti don't count.
I've shelved most expectations
I think I was talking about how little I expected out of my upcoming summer in Los Angeles, especially regarding my now ex-girlfriend.
Chris is engaged to a beautiful punk-rock chick named Yuko. I asked when they were going to get married.
we knew how to create
Don't know. This seems like one of those "resonant" phrases, conjures images of loss of creative ability. The romantic side of me wants to fill in the blanks as "in better, more visionary days when we knew how to create..." It's probably something mundane, like "we knew how to create documents in such and such a format." This more than any illustrates my (and Derrida's) point that context alters meaning.
capstone to that shitty week
I was describing the really bad week leading up to the Machado House party, which led to the need for a back massage from a pretty girl.
hoping it's as cathartic
I was on my way back to Los Angeles, just in time to catch Ministry at the Hollywood Paladium. I'd seen the band a month earlier at the Strand in downtown Providence, and had a wonderful, grinding, cleansing, cathartic experience in the swirling chaos of the mosh pit. I was hoping the L.A. show would be as good.
Back to the Center
Back to Forgetfiction