I saw a documentary on cable access this last week about slaughterhouses. Someone snuck a camera into one and filmed how they would shock the cows, and then hold a huge silver bucket, almost like an urn, under their necks while they hung upside down unconscious and then rip their aorta open and the blood would spurt into this huge flow right straight into the bucket. And how they would grab up the baby piglets on the farm and rip out their genitals with a knife and their fingers, so they couldn't reproduce (the ones they didn't want to), and then throw them onto the ground, and then move onto the next squealing piglet. All without any pain medicine or any anesthesia at all. Why effing waste the money? Or how if the piglets weren't growing fast enough, or limped somehow, they would pick them up by the back of their legs and swing them like a rag doll a couple of times in the air in a huge arc, picking up speed, and then bash their skulls into the sleet grating on the floor of the stalls in the barn. And then do it again to make sure. All just like it was everyday business, which it was.
I finished watching it, and wondered why I had finished watching it.
Overall I'm not very well right now. As a sign, today I actually consider a slightly more productive day than usual because I was able to summon the courage to call the phone company and pay my phone bill for the month by talking to one of those automated lines that senses what words or numbers you're saying by computer only. 'I think? You said? April? Two thousand? Eight. Is that? Correct?'
I went to my favorite book store today after work and sat there where not many people were, as the sun was about to hide behind the shield of clouds. I quickly started two of the books I had purchased and figured out they were worth it. I didn't touch the New Yorker this time. In fact, I put it back and spent most of my time looking out the window. As I walked from Wahrenbrock's Books to the trolley station, the sky shouted purple things at me. I figured I would have looked silly to people had I stopped on the sidewalk and just looked up at it, and the color of the windows in the tall buildings around Wahrenbrock's that were purple too, or were unique in their own colors being blended with purple. But I did notice it.
And then the sun went away.
Three things that I love right now:
Seeing the BFFs next weekend for a raging TWISTER packed weekend in Canada and Seattle.
A weekend in Portland with BFF and Big Frijole for my birthday and a Beirut show.
Jorge Regula. Every moment spent thinking about this person, writing to this person, whisps me away. I'm flying inside.