I honestly think that life can’t get much better than right now. I have food when I want it; the security of a home; instant communication technology at my service; easy-to-find entertainment. Do we live like kings? Ladies and gentlemen, we live better than kings. I get the impression that the luxuries of kingdom are tempered by, you know, the strong possibility you’ll be assassinated. It’s not just that, though. Humans are relative beings. We appreciate things on a comparative basis. Like back back back in the day when sugar was a luxury anything sweet was awesome. Imagine what a Kit-Kat bar would taste like to someone from the 17th century. They’d plotz! To us a Kit-Kat is so common it is almost expected. By that measure, things must suck for the completely rich. Easy access to everything means true appreciation for nothing. No, we here in Carrboro don’t have it very hard, but we have it just hard enough that we know we have it pretty fucking good.

This hit me smack in the face when I went to a little fest in Saxapahaw with Mom, Julie, Uncle Alex and FCOR (first cousin once removed) Melissa. It was downright bucolic. Shaded, grassy hill to set up a picnic of amazing food. Barefoot children rolling in the grass. Hoola-hoopers… doing their thing. It almost made me sad to think how good we have it. Like there must be a balance and so others are paying for our good times.

Of course I am sad that not all communities are as utopic as Carrboro; some are quite hellish. Even in Carrboro not all are as well of as I am. Is this the way things must be? Can I make fajitas whenever I want because people are slaving away in wheat fields? Does civilization necessitate “have’s” and “have not’s”?

Old journals… it makes me kick myself that I have not kept better record as of late. I’ll read through the old journals and maybe it is because I’m re-inventing the memories, but all of these very small details are coming back to me. Is this because they were made more permanent by the act of writing, or does re-reading a journal merely ignite the thought embers?

As an occasional treat to myself, I get a large, 23 oz. coke at the gas station caddy-corner to my house. This treat is more often than not turned into a depressingly eye-opening event as I am presented with a sample of the population that actually purchases lottery tickets ahead of me in line. I used to be in the pro-lottery camp; it seemed like I great deal for education funding. I pictured secretaries buying them as gag gifts for their bosses, or middle class moms buying them with a knowledge that supporting state education is far more enticing than the slim prospect of winning. I had heard the lottery jokingly referred to as “a tax on people bad at math.” What the lottery really is is a tax on people whom our education system has missed. Who are these people? Low-income families. “Don’t spend your money on this!” I want to scream. “You should be saving up for the health care you won’t be provided!”

Further, I didn’t know the kind of lotteries that would be offered. The things people are buying (at least at my convenience store) are those scratch-off cards where I think there is a better chance you’ll win. Those cards are more devious as it is not one-in-a-million style odds - which even the unemployed could probably guess is a bad idea.

Dan visited the past two days and it was the heat. And speaking of the fucking heat, can we have enough already? Thanks, Al Gore. Thanks a fucking lot for coming to my party and shitting right on the hors d’oeuvres. On the plus side, though, Al sez it’s pretty easy to correct our planetary mistakes. We did it before with chloro-floro carbons. Oh yeah, and in this blog entry I’m pretty much giving a big middle-finger to spelling. And manners. Good thing my grandmother doesn’t read this.

I’ve been re-reading a lot of old journal entries. It has been eye opening. I was a fairly narcissistic youth with an almost schizophrenic-like confidence that I would make a huge splash on the world and a near-Proustian penchant for mind-numbing levels of daily documentation. Still, I’m very glad I documented that period (essentially 1996) as it was hugely formative. In fact, there is a event which takes place which noticeably affects my writing style. It’s like you can see my near-immediate initiation into adulthood. It is nice to remember from where I came; how I got here; who I really am. It is easy to get drunk on the present and stagger without course as our personal vector is being fueled only by the desires of the now.

I recently had a meeting which made me very enthusiastic to work with a group of people located out near Southpoint. They seem like a very nice lot - close-knit; good camaraderie.

The movie presented itself in a very clear manner. AS a link for myself and for you, here is the website it promotes that will give pointers on how to impact global warming on a personal level.