now in l.a.
and, not surprisingly, kind of tired.
i actually love flying from london to l.a, especially if you time it correctly.
if timed correctly you can actually get a 6 hour sunset, as happened today.
see, you’re travelling with the sun, so the sun just keeps setting and setting.
i’m supposed to go out to dinner now.
i hope i don’t fall asleep while i’m eating.
which could happen.
moby

so when one is very tired why does one get that hot sand feeling in one’s eyes?
or, to put it in a specific context, it’s 5 a.m and i’m on a flight from rio to nyc and i can’t sleep but i still have that exhausted ‘hot caustic sand being rubbed in my eyes by sadistic monkeys’ feeling.
why the eyes?
maybe i should’ve brought some ambien.
people do seem to swear by the ambien.
i’ve tried it, though, and it doesn’t seem to work for me.
but everyone i know swears by it, especially for long trips.
ah well. in theory we’ll be landing in 1 hour(this has been a particularly annoying stretch of travel…arrive rio airport 4:30 pm sunday, board plane at 6:30 p.m, sit on plane until 8 p.m until being told that plane isn’t leaving, deal with ‘oh fuck, we’re not leaving’ chaos in the terminal, arrive back at hotel at 10 p.m, punch couch cushion out of frustration at 10:10 p.m, feel foolish over said couch cushion punching at 10:12 p.m, watch ‘gangs of new york’ until 1 a.m, sleep until 9 a.m, wander around hotel anxiously awaiting news of flights home on monday, find out that a flight is apparently leaving at 6:30 p.m but that it goes via sao paolo with a 2 hour stopover, go to lunch at 1pm, go to airport again at 4pm, board plane at 6:30 p.m, fly to sao paolo and arrive at 7:30 p.m, wander around the decidedly unglamorous sao paolo airport until 9:30 p.m, begin flight to jfk, write self-involved journal entry at 5 a.m, 36 hours later).
so it’s been a long 36 hours of travel and travel related stupidity/anxiety.
see, most times when a flight is cancelled you have other options.
cleveland, for example.
if you’re flying from cleveland to jfk and your flight is cancelled you could:
a-take another flight
b-take a train
c-rent a car
d-walk. unfortunately none of those options are available to you at 9pm on a sunday in rio, thus the travel anxiety.
ok, enough whining, maybe some people think that the idea of spending 36 hours traveling from brazil to new york sounds like a fun adventure.
so i’ll stop whining so as to not disavow anyone of the notion that 36 hours of airports sounds like a fun way to spend ones time.
thanks for listening to my rant.
moby

just arrived in san francisco from portland oregon.
kind of hungover and very tired and, j-lo and behold, teriyaki tofu and udon noodles waiting for me in my hotel room!
warning: i’m writing about food again.
how nice, to show up in a hotel room and have teriyaki tofu and udon waiting for me. with scallions. anyone who doesn’t revere the humble scallion is obviously disturbed. you don’t like scallions?
what’s wrong with you? they’re so nice. giving so much, asking nothing in return. the humble spring onion. the scallion. the green onion. friend to the friendless. the embodiement of length and green beauty.

yes, i’m very tired.
and yes, i have 10 more hours of interviews to do today. after interviews and a plane flight this morning.
yes, i’m taking a vacation in my plate of tofu and udon and scallions.
in my mind i’m well-rested and i have a full head of hair.

i feel badly for the poor people who have to interview me later. i hope they like non-sequiturs. ‘so moby, what are your thoughts about 18?’
‘there are a hundred microscopic dragonflies resting on the edge of my finger, but only i can see them because i watched the right cartoons when i was growing up. i will train them to turn into blueberries on the summer solstice.’

yes, exhaustiion induced hallucinations. eh, better than the evil voices in my head telling me about that vatican/rosicrucian/freemason conspiracy.
at least the scallions are still loyal. or are they.
-moby

i don’t remember ever being this tired. i’ve had the good old insomnia for a few days, and now i’m in an airport getting ready to fly to vancouver and i feel like a sponge that’s sat behind a radiator all winter.
oh well. no complaints. time to soldier on. what a tough guy, having to brave all sorts of adversities, like underpaid airport security people and non-organic airport orange juice and dial-up modem connection fees.
yes, it’s a tough life. tough indeed.
oh damn, it used to be that i could indulge in some good, old-fashioned sarcasm without feeling the need to explain myself. but every now andthen i’ll say something sarcastic and someone will think i’m being earnest and it will come back to bite me on my tiny vegan ass. ok, my ass isn’t

as tiny as it used to be, but it’s still vegan. insofar as an ass can be vegan. i’m a vegan ass, so my ass is, thus, vegan. asses of fire. terrence and philip. i love them. as do we all.
ok, when i referred to myself as a tough guy earlier i was being facetious.
it was supposed to be funny. my aim is often to be funny. granted that i rarely succeed. but i’ll keep trying. my other aim is to finally feel like i’ve come to grips with the subtleties and vagaries of syntax. my syntax embarrasses (huh, huh, bare ass, huh huh) me.

oh, i saw the white stripes last night. he’s a really great slide-guitarist. the distorted slide guitar bits were my favourite. and that sweet ‘i know we’ll be friends’ song. that is the sweetest little song. i love it.
and i appreciate their minimalism, but i did on a few occasions long for the deep, visceral satisfaction of a loud bass guitar. i love the simplicity, but every now and then (as with the blues explosion) i just want to hear some solid, sexy low-end.
but that’s just me.

now i’m supposed to fly to vancouver. and i don’t want to be tired anymore.
i’m tired of being tired.
-moby

amsterdam.
or as they used to call it in the early 90’s house scene, amsterjam.
maybe they still call it amsterjam. i dunno.
at one point i toyed with the idea of moving to amsterdam. it’s a remarkably special and tolerant and beautiful city. tonight i took a boat ride through the canals with some friends and co-workers while we ate a phenomenal vegan meal.
the next time someone asks you, ‘what do vegans eat?’, please feel free to show them this 5 course menu:
1-thinly sliced and gently fried truffles with avocado and cilantro pate
2-white truffle soup with morrel mushrooms
3-asparagus salad with walnut tapenade
4-portabello mushrooms and aubergine over polenta, served with a mongolian barbecue sauce
5-thai-basil vegan ice cream served over a poached pear
even the meat eaters in our dinner party were impressed by the food.
it kicked ass. but, contrary to popular opinion, vegan food almost always kicks ass. the old proletarian days of soggy lentils and undercooked brown rice have passed.
the new bourgeoisie vegan days of walnut pesto ravioli with sundried tomato and olive putanesca sauce are upon us. or maybe it’s just me. (in all honesty i actually love lentils and rice, too. fascinating, huh).

now it’s 4:30 a.m and i’m getting ready to swallow some melatonin and valerian and knock myself out for the next 8 hours.
last night i had insomnia. i will try to avoid insomnia this evening.
it’s the little personal details that are so enthralling, huh.
in other words, i know i’m being dull. if you were bone tired from insomnia you might be a little bit on the dull and boring side, too.
have a nice day (i’m so out of it that i don’t even know what day it is. is it friday? is it thursday? i’m pretty sure it’s not saturday yet, is it? little help?)
-moby