Going through a couple of my old ones right now, I stumbled upon a couple of those little snippets of thought that I love finding in these things. Sometimes they transport me to the time I wrote them, or at least give me some vague sense of nostalgia, but at the very least I either think “Oh, hey, that’s great, I should use that for something,” or “man, that was fucking terrible, what was I thinking?” There’s even one page where I had written some stupid, out-of-context thought and apparently went back to it months later, crossed it out and put an arrow pointing towards it and a note that said “Thought it was a good idea at the time.” I guess being my own worst critic can be a good thing, but sometimes I feel like it paralyzes me when it comes to writing. Hopefully this blog can help me get over some of those fears. I’ve never feared the criticisms of anyone else, but the most disappointing feeling I’ve had as a writer is when I write something and look back at it and say “Man, that was terrible.” It’s more embarassing than being caught masturbating (especially when you’re masturbating to the writing of yours that you like).

So, for tonight, here are a couple little nuggets from the archives that I liked. There is no context, just loose ideas that I might use for something someday.

1:

I fantasize about yelling at my boss in jobs I don’t even have. Do you know what it’s like to be turned down or overlooked for a raise or promotion in your daydreams? It sucks, man, it really does.

2:

He was the kind of guy that wrote nice poetry to his girlfriend about putting rocks in his shoes so he would remember each step he took towards her and ruined it by later describing in detail the pus-filled blisters and blood-soaked socks at the end of the day.

3:

“If the world were black and white, would color cameras have been invented first?”

4 (from a journal entry when I was driving the buses on the Vineyard. I would write some of these down in the two or three minutes I had at a bus stop during my shift.):

Small, obnoxious kid goes into a frenzy, forcing everyone on the bus to listen to a rant about the entire story of the new Harry Potter, despite pleas from the other passengers not to ruin it. [It had just come out.] Continues anyway, visibly angering a teenaged girl with the book in her hands and a bookmark in the middle. Boy reveals that he is about to be shipped off to camp for a month. Passengers all cheer and applaud the missing parents and sympathize.”

—

Man uses the last two dollars on a $16 change card. I go to throw it away but he wants to keep it. For a scrap book. His used up, wrinkled bus change card.

—

Morbidly obese couple only passengers between Edgartown and Oak Bluffs, arguably the more scenic, if not the most, of the down-island routes. The husband asks, “so a lot of people come here, right? From all over?” When I say yes, the wife snorts and shouts, “WHY?” Their grunts, sweating, moaning and complaining about the heat, and the numerous stains on their shirts, combined with their utter ignorance will make me question my next piece of bacon.