This Space Reserved…

One of the nice things about having twelve years worth of journals lying around is that I have a near-limitless reserve of material to post and make fun of when I have nothing better to blog.

Today, I have nothing better to blog.

Last night, I found myself once again thumbing through my first journal. I tend to keep an old journal or two close at hand because they serve as instant triggers for reminiscing. They are also incontrovertible proof that cocky kids grow up to be humble, kind and meek adults¹.

As I was nosing around in the middle of my 1996 journal, I came across a half-page entry that made me smile and laugh at my crazy seventeen-year-old assured self. Since no good joke should go unshared, I knew I had to post it here.

And so I give you, tongue planted firmly in cheek, an entry from June 20, 1996:

Isn’t it glorious?

Four things:

1) I appear to have left plenty of space for “my masterpiece.” Apparently, my contribution to all of art is to be a single haiku.
2) I can’t really draw.
3) Why do people write diagonally when scrawling things across the page?
4) That alien is not giving you the finger.

The peace-sign-wielding alien in this picture was copied from the liner notes of George Clinton and the P-Funk Allstars’ T.A.P.O.A.F.O.M. (The Awesome Power of a Fully Operational Mothership). I was really into George Clinton as a teenager.

I still am. I saw the Funk master in Austin in the fall of 1996 with Fishbone and De La Soul.

It was awesome.

And it reminds me now that I haven’t talked much about music on this blog, which is quite out of character. I’m a music junkie, and that has played a big role in my writing.

Next time then.

1. who am I kidding here? Cocky kids grow up to be narcissistic adults, but I am still a nice guy, really.

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