LUDIC LOG

Thur., April 21. Found a big chalkboard behind the trash dumpster behind the religious supply store. It has a little chunk punched out of the lower right hand corner and there's a stain right in the middle that I can't identify and don't want to. But otherwise it's in good shape. Brought it home and mounted it on the north wall of the living room. Not sure what to do with it, I'll think of something.

Weds., April 27. I don't really know what the point of this stupid chalkboard is. I'm still writing phone numbers on scraps of paper and losing them. But I dragged an 8-foot chalkboard up four flights of stairs after hauling it three miles on the bus, I'm going to get some use out of it one way or another. I wish I was good at doodling.

Sat., April 30. God, I'm an idiot. I met this guy at a party tonight, he goes to art school with Jenny, and he's just gorgeous. Curt. He's English. So we get to talking about "football" (soccer), and he happens to mention this big transfer that Tottenham Hotspur, his home club, just made. And oddly enough, I had heard about it, because when I stayed up until 3AM getting baked and working on the mixdown the other day, ESPN2 was on and they did a little piece on it. So like the big fat loser that I am, I come off all expert on soccer and start nodding my head and making all these totally lame generalizations, just because I don't want him to think I'm stupid. This is just one of the many things I do to be pretentious. Which is probably why I live alone in a dumpy tenement.

Sun., April 31. When I woke up this morning this was written on the chalkboard: "Pretending you know a lot about sports just to impress guys". The funny thing is I'm pretty sure I didn't write it.

Tues., May 2. The chalkboard said "Speaking in a French accent even though you're really from Peoria so waiters will think you're exotic". Which in fact I did tonight, and as soon as I got home, feeling guilty about it of course, there it was chalky as you please. The chalkboard seems to know what I'm doing, and it doesn't like it. Frankly, the whole thing is starting to creep me out a little.

Fri;., May 5. "Wearing leather pants when it's 91 degrees outside." The chalkboard obviously does not understand the necessity of fashion. What I find really curious is that it not only knows I was wearing leather pants today, but also what the temperature was. I would consult a scientist but the only one I know is Jeanette and she's a marine biologist. I guess I should be grateful it doesn't say something new every day.

Sun., May 7. Today it said "Having opinions, and bad ones at that, about books you have never read". I'm sort of confused about this one. I had brunch with Jeremy today and he was talking about something being Kafkaesque, and I'm pretty sure he's never actually read Kafka. So I didn't actually do this. But I have done it in the past. So, is the board mad at Jeremy? Or is it mad at me for something I did a long time ago? Also, I just now noticed that I don't have any chalk. You would think I would have noticed that sooner.

Wed., May 17. All right, I'll cop to "claiming I liked a band before they hit it big or 'sold out'", "owning import editions of albums available on American labels", and "coming up with with a bunch of pseudo-intellectual rationales for liking dumb shitkicker music", but my cigarettes are not "crappy". They're foreign, yes, but that does not automatically mean they suck. Also, I do not affect an "urban-tragic pose". I feel that the chalkboard has been especially hostile of late, and I almost want to have a few words with it, but every time I say something to it, I feel like a moron. Because I'm just standing there, talking to a chalkboard. And there's no give-and-take; I can't really criticize it the way it does me, because...well, for obvious reasons. What am I going to do, make fun of its stain?

Thur., May 25. I begin to suspect that the chalkboard does not fully understand the meaning of the phrase 'constructive criticism'. In the last week it has degenerated into petty sniping, like "bumping into the doorways and knocking over all the matchbooks because you drank a whole six-pack of beer at Manolo's" and "eating the last can of ravioli". What business is that of the chalkboard's? Am I now to share my food with it? What possible self-improvement can come of such trivial squabbling? I'm starting to think I should have just left it behind the dumpster.

Sat., May 27. Last night when I got home from Dick's the chalkboard said "Being a big ugly foureyes with no sense of adventure who could just maybe stop whining about everything for once in her life". I decided that it was time to act. I waited until just before sunrise, then wrapped it in an old blanket and ran across the street to the Circle K, where I left it, behind the dumpster. When I went over there this afternoon to buy some Diet Coke, the chalkboard was gone, thought the blanket was still there. I hope I am finally rid of it.

Sun., May 28. It's no good. I can't sleep. Somewhere nearby, the sound of chalk scratching.