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10:11 am - Fri 6/25/04
Flotsam and Jetsam Redux

Flotsam and Jetsam Redux

(In writing that title, I thought I should look up the two words, since it's never been clear to me exactly what they meant: "Flotsam" is "the wreckage of a ship and its cargo", while "jetsam" is "the deliberate tossing of goods overboard, to lighten a ship in an emergency". Maybe you already knew that, but I didn't.)

Thurs 6/24/04 (10:06 p.m.)

Here's one for the "I should have such problems" file: Colin Ferrell's nude scenes have been cut out of his latest film because test audiences were distracted by his "huge manhood".

Good-looking, rich, and well-endowed...the poor bastard.


I read recently that Neale Donald Walsch, the author of the Conversations With God books, is coming out with a new book where he suggests God isn't some old man with a white beard who lives "up there" somewhere, but instead is "everything that is". Not a sentient being, but all being.

That left me a little confused. Not with the idea of a "non-theistic" God, but with who the hell Walsch was talking to in those best-selling books of his.

I mean, how exactly do you have a "conversation" with "everything that is"?


Made a decision recently, while looking at action figures at the K-Mart near work; basically, it boils down to "You want to buy an action figure, Jim? Fine–book something, then you can buy one of your little ‘man dolls'".

Seems to be a fair arrangement. And it'll keep me from running out of flat surfaces for awhile.


Awhile back, I read a review of Anne Patchett's book Truth & Beauty, which is about her friendship with Autobiography of a Face author Lucy Grealy.

Two passages quoted from the book struck me as things I could have written in Diaryland, were I a better writer, with only minimal changes.

(Lucy) was absolutely committed to the idea that writing would be her salvation and that she was obligated to pull herself out of all her present miseries by the sheer strength of her will and talent

We had each come to realize that no one was going to save our lives, and that if we wanted to save them ourselves, we had only one skill that afforded us any hope at all. Writing is a job, a talent, but it's also the place to go to in your head. It is the imaginary friend you drink your tea with in the afternoon.

. Change "writing" to "acting", and you've got some beliefs I've carried around with me for a long time now.


Liked this quote about success from Nadia Comaneci–"Above all else, you have to be hungry to do something unbelievable.".

The possibility of my doing something "unbelievable" is seeming pretty remote these days, but the hunger is definitely still there.


L.A. cops have been caught on tape beating another suspect.

I saw the video today: They were chasing the guy in a stolen car, then when he got out, hands in the air, giving up, a bunch of them jumped on him, and one cop smacked him ten times with a flashlight.

Now, I'm going to say something, and I hope it isn't mis-construed: I understand how that cop felt (Or at least I imagine I do): You're chasing this guy, obviously a bad guy, and he sideswipes some cars, nearly runs over some people, and maybe puts you and your fellow officers at some risk. Your blood's pumping, your adrenaline's through the roof, and when you catch him, I get how you'd feel like administering some serious "street justice".

But saying I understand the feeling is not saying I condone the action. As a police officer, however "amped up" you might be after a car chase, you don't get to blow off steam by whomping on the suspect. Particularly when he's giving up, and doesn't pose any threat whatsoever.

And frankly, being a white guy in the city that hosted America's last major race riot, what I saw scared the crap out of me. I don't want to be part of "The L.A. Riots, Pt. II". I don't want to be pulled out of my car by an angry black mob, all because some cop couldn't stop himself from teeing-off on a car thief.


Kevin sent me an email recently, about his feelings regarding the Iraq situation.

I'm not going to spell out what he said, because I don't know what Kevin would or wouldn't want me to share in here. But I will say that he touched on some things I've been thinking about a lot myself.

I'm torn; I feel I should be staying informed about what's going on, and I feel guilty for having my head in the sand sometimes, but when I read about what's happening there, it only makes me feel angry and afraid.

And I feel "angry and afraid" often enough, thank you very much. If I'm going to be "angry and afraid", I'd rather it be about things I can at least theoretically do something about.

(That said, I do plan on seeing Fehrenheit 9/11 at the first available opportunity.)


The time is now 68:88.

Which I think means it's time to get a new clock.


I've had my new cell phone for awhile now.

I sort of miss the "Batphone" aspect of the pager, but I think having a cell phone is a good thing.

Of course, I'm managing to turn something pretty benign into a problem, because, after all, that's what I do (Let's put it this way–Checking my voicemail for messages every hour or so is a good habit; checking it every 15 minutes is just obsessive and desperate).


Well, I could go on and on in this "hit and run" fashion, but I've got some laundry to do, and some stuff to say that merits a different style of entry, so I think I'm going to "cease and desist" for now.


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