Have you seen the back of the new nickels? Why am I disturbingly reminded of the chamber of commerce logo from Pleasantville? You remember Pleasantville--the movie where all the folks are in black and white until the intervention of two kids from our mondrun age and all hell breaks loose (along with technicolor)? Basically the folks who remain black and white from P-ville turn quite fascist in the long run, complete with a logo and decorations that would get Leni Riefenstahl wet.

I've been reading a lot of blogs lately that seem to take on the Pleasantville ideology replete with a desire that change and difference are anathema and are self-righteously assured that they are comfortably right. Underneath the pleasantly calm and "ordinary" mask is seething and violent hate.

Yeah, I know, it is only a nickel.

Depressing.

"It hurts me when you give me the silent treatment!" she sobbed. She had been going at him since 17th South. Evidently he had applied for something related to school, but was turned down because he didn't have a high school diploma. "Why do you have to do that? Why? Look at me!" and she grabbed his jaw. Early on I had heard him whisper that he didn't think the bus was the right place to talk. "Well you won't talk about this at home either, so why not here?" She wasn't sobbing then, just irritated. He obviously gave her the silent treatment quite a lot, since he was so good at it. That did not stop her, however. "It hurts me to see you fail! It hurts! Why do you do that? Why can't we just get off at the next stop and cross the street and go right back? Answer me! I don't want to worry about the future!"

By the time they got off, that stop was long past, but she had gotten more and more upset, continually sobbing with a beet red face. All the while I stared out the window, just pretended to be asleep. After getting off, she continued in on him, and he moved father away from her and she moved closer.

"The things you hear on UTA," the guy across from me said. Indeed.

I don't know why I feel compelled to write about anxiety, considering I'm not that anxious right now, other than thinking about the impending move. I suppose, over all, I'm as anxious as the next guy in that weird little worries pop into my head, and doubts tend to rule out over hopes, but I don't obsess about it. I think I see people without anxiety as lazy. Basically non-anxious folks tend to wander through life not really caring about what they do or what effects their life is having, but generally are quite happy. Of course overly anxious people are just as problematic, and much more annoying since mostly they go about making other people miserable.

So one walks a fine line, I suppose, between being motivated and being laid back?

Fuck that shit.

So I'm thinking of moving. Actually it is more than thinking since I've given my landlord notice. At least I suppose that is more than thinking. Perhaps it is only thinking. Thinking and writing words on paper to tell the disturbing little guy that he won't have the pleasure of squinting at me any more and making idiotic only-things-a-landlord-can-say like "what are you going to do about that" when told that there is a short in the wiring to the front porch light.

I'm not nostalgic about the Mansion or the Heber or the whatever you want to call it. There is a nice place with a view I've got my eye on.

A bunch of us went up to a lake last night for the Blue Moon. Despite it being hot down here in the valley, it was positively cold up in the mountains, but altogether quite nice.

I think I'm stuck on another unattainable unavailable girl.