whenever i ride the train this week, i fall heavily into this book that, for whatever reason totally engrosses me. or engulfs me. i become oblivious to everything and everyone else around me. i forget about what came before and what came after or what comes next.

how strange it is to become so completely engrossed immediately upon leaving the soul-sapping workplace. something vaguely similar to my 3 years as a pothead in college. i hated school so much, and felt so humiliated because my earliest art projects were ridiculed by teachers and students. i guess i was as much of an outsider in college as i am  in my current work situation. they are very similar in a lot of ways. frat boys who want to make it in Hollywood. i just wanted to be like Antonioni.

i never really enjoyed marijuana as a party stimulant. it was never an escape, never an exit. it was always an entrance. suddenly, out of nowhere,  abruptly, i could find a voice. and courage to use it. and i draw upon that still, although i rarely feel courage.

but pot smoking takes a lot of practice. otherwise it totally obliterates you. which i guess is the big draw for some people.

how did i even get onto this subject? oh, because i am trying to find new ways to find an immediate uplift and it has to be immediate because i am rarely in one place at one time for very long and i never seem to have time for anything. certainly not enough time to develop into a competent pothead again. but i do have some time to read memoirs of French existentialists on the subway.

this really is not turning out to be a very good post at all. but I will save it anyway. sorry!