Today my dog, an 8-pound, scruffy, bad ass who occasionally wears a T-shirt that has the words Joe Cool printed on the back, asked me; he said, "Daddy why is tonight different than all other nights?" And I said, "Why it's New Year's eve, son . . . it's New Years!" We laughed all the way to the park.

And so I pondered, why is New Year's Eve so special? Obviously (not considering such things as weather and network television show lineups) for society's sake, the difference between December 31st's night and February 22nd's night is about as different as the selection offered at the surprisingly tasty and overwhelmingly tempting In and Out Burger

In any event, I find it difficult to understand why the mere shifting of one digit on a calendar would cause space shuttle-like countdowns, exposed intoxication, peer-pressure induced osculation, and gluttonous mastication. 'Course, that's just me.

Thing is, just what are we celebrating here? Christmas, I understand. Thanksgiving . . . makes sense. Halloween . . . it's a little spooky, but significant, in so far as celebrating the Harvest and preparing for the winter ahead. Even July 4th's Independence Day is a Star Spangled hoot of summer celebration. There must be some meaning for New Years, though, something more exciting than celebrating a digit switch for a calendar named Gregorian-a calendar whose origins are as confused as an drunk, Alzheimer, victim riding a sit n' spin. (Let it be noted that the general consensus suggesting, "the year count" significant in so far as it dates back to Jesus Christ's birth is technically flawed. This system was established some 600 years after the birth of Christ and historical evidence concerning J.C.'s birth is too sketchy to allow a definitive dating.)

So what's the not-so-big idea? Why the need for one day in every 365 to review news stories; list the best and worst of everything; countdown the top 100 anything; and parade about with tri-hued marching bands for half-rate, dying, dot-com bowl games. Could it be that we, as a society, addicted to categorizing and controlling are celebrating a deluded notion that we actually duped the nature of things--toasting the bubbly because on a very primal level we think we can control time by stamping a year on it. Or maybe the motive might be because once in every 365 days we, as a society, need to indulge in authorized escapism to cope with and compensate for the buildup of induced stress caused by the blatant disregard of our natural selves--our soul.

I mean, because, after all, if you honestly ask yourself why you celebrated New Year's Eve; why you choose to get finely dressed, consume great quantities of alcohol, and dine extravagantly this December 31st, quite possibly your answer will insinuate something like, "It's New Years, that's what you do on New Years!" And if that be so, and your reasoning for celebration was simply decided by some other's ideas, well, that to me, is heartbreaking and a most unfortunate way to, as they say, start anew.

Wishing all the best for the coming 365 days.
- kimmel 8:53 PM

Saturday, December 29, 2001
To the blind I wish for sight.
- kimmel 9:54 PM

Thursday, December 27, 2001
Q: What do a Jim Beam romantic, a fat-brained genetic philosopher, a medium build anorexic, a self aggrandizing graduate student, a canabis craving pizza delivery person, and a poem writting hermit have in common?

A: They’re all Dead in Bathtub Water.

- kimmel 5:13 PM

Wednesday, December 26, 2001

This Fowl;
Higher than
Razor, toxic, windy
- kimmel 10:39 PM

Tuesday, December 25, 2001
Kansas City is a nice place. I want to live in Kansas City and write there.

- kimmel 8:05 PM

Monday, December 24, 2001

Davis believes he’s acutely aware of the “order-of-things,” as he calls it. People say of Davis that he’s “out there.” Thing is, Davis is acutely aware. Davis writes. He has a keen interest in psychology and philosophy—the nature of things. Davis is in the process of writing a thesis/manifesto that will reveal, what he calls, “The Great Secret.” Davis will site his acute comprehension, of the universe by way of his mind’s observations. Some ideas in the thesis will include : relative perception and his patented five human senses Disney cartoon comparison; suggesting one could trust the senses “like he could trust politicians.”

Davis meets Ian, an early-stage drunk, at Joe’s (rename later) Davis unknowingly romances Ian with his talk about molecular manipulation, and with mention of his "reflective theory of love", which stems from his earliest of works when . . . Nearly complete with his first thesis he tells of hearing (in a moment of doubt) a distinct voice saying, "Love these words and they’ll love you back."
- kimmel 7:39 PM

Sunday, December 23, 2001
For those who are mis' taken this production is guaranteed safe, and creative. Of course, due to its linear nature errors may exist.

- kimmel 8:23 PM

Saturday, December 22, 2001
Have I metioned . . .

- kimmel 5:47 PM

Friday, December 21, 2001
I’ve decided to go vegetarian today. That is; from this moment forward I will not eat any animal. I feel like my ability to love all things will be increased.
- kimmel 7:58 PM

Thursday, December 20, 2001
Dear panhandler in the 77th street ally asking:

Pardon my ignoring. It's just that with these days of terrorizing, I've much to be worrying. You see, my oversized SUV needs fueling, my stocks need analyzing, my Prozac needs refilling, my step-daughter's teeth need bracing, my retirement plan needs attending, my country needs devoting, my boss needs sixty-hours-a-week working, my ex-wife needs maintaining, my clothing needs tailoring, my German Shepherd needs grooming, my house needs painting, my computer needs Microsoft XP upgrading, my exercise bike needs riding, my AOL needs 7.0 programming, my Master Card needs paying, my lady friend needs promising, my Christmas tree needs decorating, my cell phone needs charging, my DVD system needs Pearl Harbor playing, my Church needs ten percent donating, my gun collection needs cleaning, my son's college tuition needs disbursing, my therapist needs me explaining, Survivor, CNN, and Harry Potter need watching, my Maxwell House needs drinking, my t-bone needs eating, my lawn needs fertilizing, my lottery numbers need gambling, my health insurance needs revising, my Sam's Club card needs re-registering, and my charity (the September 11th relief fund) needs supporting.

Thank you for understanding.

A. Lostman

- kimmel 7:47 PM

Tuesday, December 18, 2001
Confession:

I’m guilty. Well, actually guilty is not the proper word here. For I have no feelings of guilt, although, I’ve been hiding something, nonetheless. You see, it seems, I’ve come across my first real case of “dispassionate fever” -- what groupies like to call “writer’s block.” The muses are on holiday. The coalmine, which supplies the coal that boils my passions, has, all but been, emptied. Frankly, I have little care for affairs of the world, not-to-mention care to write about them. Dead in Bathtub Water, (for those confused please read November 27th post) has tortured me the way a temperamental older sibling does in the deep-end of the swimming pool. I’m playing hide n’ seek with plot. My character’s are out partying without me while, you, the mysterious future reader, whistles show tunes in my head like a city-gutter robin who’s flown too far south.

What to do?

Well, first I can write about it. This automatically and paradoxically disqualifies the very condition I claim to suffer from. Secondly, (this is where I rant into therapeutic, honest, revealing crap that I swore I would never subject readers to) I can be less judgmental of my work and realize that I do not need to usurp myself each time I take to the pen. Finally, I can accept that, unfortunately, at least for now I cannot all days float within the ether inhaling inspirational truths like your average suit breaths cheap cologne.
- kimmel 11:56 AM

Monday, December 17, 2001
Enter Filibuster:

I like the snow when it blankets the landscape days after its fallen. Snow becomes a detective, a living history; she reveals who has been where. From the zigzag paw prints of the sniffing puppy, to the cumbersome tracks of the workman's boots, to the mysterious four-toed anomaly whose presence is usually never known.The fallen snow is most powerful.
- kimmel 7:31 PM

Saturday, December 15, 2001
DJ Boxer creates music that makes me high. Sometimes, his music doesn’t make me high. Then his music makes me angry. DJ Boxer thinks he’s tapped into some euphoric truth beyond humanity. DJ Boxer is high. DJ Boxer bellows worship songs praising the feeling he’s having when he’s high. High. High. High. Nothing more than high.
- kimmel 9:39 PM

Friday, December 14, 2001
Georgia is a nice place to visit. I once knew an elderly man named George from Georgia. He wrote a long poem about the history of nostalgia. The mayor of the town he lived in thought his poem absurd. George went fishing that day and tore his poem into small pieces to use as bait.
- kimmel 4:09 PM

Wednesday, December 12, 2001
This day no thing will have importance over any other thing.
I've found it difficult to move.
- kimmel 9:15 PM

Tuesday, December 11, 2001
The thing is, for those who don't know, being a writer is a full time job that pays very little. On the list of necessary necessities the human race ranks writing just behind belly dancing.
- kimmel 5:30 PM

Monday, December 10, 2001
Broken Sarah:

Sarah strides into Leo's, fixes her stringy blonde locks, and paces her blue eyeballs tirelessly, squinting for Ian who said he would be reading Tolstoy on the maroon, velvet sofa towards the rear. Various seated strangers acknowledge her with typical unconscious recognition retreating from their newspaper, or paperback, or notebook with a bob of the head upward. Sarah’s face muscles subtly twitch.

Where’s Ian?

- kimmel 4:41 PM

Sunday, December 09, 2001
Lost at Sea, Ian: (As noted in previous posts, enhancement for today's addition is provided by November 27th's post.)

Note: To the English professors who have been e-mailing regarding my style I must reiterate that presented here is merely a brief outline--a sketch, if you will--mere tidbits of a skeleton, a zygote, a genesis, a genome, a blueprint, for the eventual masterpiece I shall scribe tentatively titled, Dead in Bath Tub Water. Furthermore, I present this "sketch work," simply to allow you a behind-the-scenes vantage into its manifestation. All material presented in this preparation can and may be disregarded by me at any time. This includes character name, setting, plot structure, character gender and sexual preference, and the use of English as the primary language. As they say, nothing is written in . . . in fact, the stone that this eventually will be written on still dwells so deep in the earth's core a certain volcano needs to erupt three times before it sees the sunlight of day.

And to answer Mr. Jenkins question: I chose initially to focus on the psychology of my characters seeing as my characters beliefs (whether known or unknown) are, without question, their most powerful motivator.


Ian's dark eye's and hair, broad shoulders, and casual demeanor make him attractive. In order for Ian to feel comfortable in a public arena, he fills his mind with self-talk inflating himself while demeaning those around him. Folding his still damp t-shirts on the Laundromat’s, art-deco yellow smooth counter top Ian overhears a woman's scratchy voice speaking on a portable phone.

"He was actually very sexy, Deon. He smelled divine. And made me feel altogether relaxed . . . What? . . . Yes, I'm not crazy," she smirks and her lips curl, "those panties are too expensive to dry . . . ugh, especially here. God knows what bacteria lingers in the lint!"

Her date must've kissed some ass, Ian thinks. Probably dressed in slacks, scented himself with Tommy cologne. . . . I should try now. She's hot enough.
- kimmel 6:22 PM

Saturday, December 08, 2001
''The men and things of today are wont to lie fairer and truer in tomorrow's meadow.''
     -Henry Thoreau

Somedays that's all I got. Deal with it.

- kimmel 9:24 PM

Friday, December 07, 2001
Sometimes I look into the sky, notice the clouds, and remember. Briefly I enjoy nature again. I feel like a free roaming, crusty footed boy. I feel like a human being. These moments are nice.
- kimmel 4:07 PM

Thursday, December 06, 2001
Herbert’s Conflict: (For further explanation read November 27th post)

Herbert Leatherman becomes bored easily. He’s tiredly unaware of this. He searches for dissatisfaction and controversy. His temperament oscillates systematically for a three to five day cycle—always culminating with a day of exhaustion, isolation, and responsibility avoidance.

Herbert’s main conflict, for this book’s purposes will be to overcome his cyclical nature. He will slowly learn to manifest his own personal life pace. In doing so, he will, while still achieving most of what he wishes, remove the idea of responsibility all together.

This work will be difficult.

- kimmel 8:23 PM

Wednesday, December 05, 2001
I saw a bumper sticker yesterday that read: "I'd rather be sailing." I felt sad for the driver. He must have been unhappy, seeing as he'd rather be doing something else.

I want to make a bumper sticker that reads: "I'd rather be doing what I'm doing right now."

That would be cool.
- kimmel 6:18 PM

Tuesday, December 04, 2001
I visit 7-11 a lot; I’m ashamed to say. You see at 7-11 there’s nothing worth having. In my mind once I’ve strolled in to a 7-11 it’s an affirmation of my desperate addicted state. It’s a sign that I’ve surrendered to some urge or craving. 7-11 is my legal drug dealer with a vast array of quick fix alleviants (be them mild) to temporarily satiate my never ceasing longing for joy.

And then there are the periodicals.

I’m overwhelmed with 7-11’s periodical section and its display of style magazines covered with phenomenally attractive girls (the word women doesn’t seem to fit) seemingly saying, “Fuck me Keith. I am so fuckin’ hot. Just, fuck me!”

Like most men I really like this. Unlike most men I resent the blatant stimulus of my sexual instinct fabricated by some editor-in-chief seeking my purchase of his periodical. For me, what results from this virtual New York modeling agency in pulp is uncomfortable desire and true dissatisfaction. For one, I can’t have the girl and even if I could the probable heart throbbing control she would foster . . . not to mention the maintenance plan and her deluded sense of princess status. But . . . what if. . . ?

And so as I leave the 7-11’s red and green behind; cigarette, or glazed donut, or (if I’m lucky) balance bar, in hand, I’m left with the pungent taste of reality lurking just a few short neighborhood blocks away. For no matter how attractive my lady friend might be, she’ll never have a chance measuring up to the very green grass my humble appetite just encountered.

- kimmel 4:11 PM

Saturday, December 01, 2001
Over Thanksgiving I met a homeless (possibly recovering) heroin addict asking for currency in exchange for information concerning AIDS. I suppose I gave him a dollar, maybe some change. I can’t recall. I asked him if he had HIV or AIDS. He said yes. I asked him if he got the disease through sex or the needle. He said the needle. We shared pain conversing about the struggles of addiction. He mentioned how terribly his back hurt during the end of his heroin days.
- kimmel 6:24 PM