Life of D.C., day ?

Well, all, it's the new year. And not just the new year, but A new year. And I'm excited.

I'm all about a new year, as long time readers will no doubt already know. I like resolutions—I like making them, I like breaking them. The secret, I suppose, is to know which ones to break. This year, I think I'll break something related to transexual prostitutes. I'm sorry that I can't be more specific, but I haven't finished making all my resolutions, and I think talking about them too early is a sure fire way to jinx something special. Remember last year—the ill-fated "I wanna be a millionaire" resolution? That was a lesson I won't soon forget (there's a resolution for you—put it in the bank!).

Generally, I think "get regular" is probably a good, descriptive phrase for the resolutions of '09 (again, however, I can't say whether this relates to the trannies yet). Obviously this applies to my bowels, and to brushing my teeth. And, more importantly, to blogging! Get regular, Dandy!

It's not easy, but I do care about this crap after all, and I'm all about making the world more ready to remember me when I'm dead—so more blogging it is. To this effect, I have purchased my very first laptop computer. That wasn't an easy decision, I'll tell you. But I shopped around, and settled on a nice overlap between my price range and the abilities I expect my computer to have. So I purchased a Phu-Go Briteboy. Phu-Go is one of the up and coming Thai computer manufacturers, and they make an all around solid product for the price (sorry, you won't get that out of me). The device has more cardboard components than I'd expect from such a humid country, but I think its new temperate home will suit it well.

The keyboard is a little smaller than I'm used to, and my hands continue to grow at a rate that far outpaces the rest of my body, so you'll forgive me any typos as I get used to this key arrangement. Several of the keys—S, Y, O, "tab," and half a dozen Thai characters—are located on the underside of the machine, so speedy typing will take some practice. (Although maybe I could rig up some strings and, I don't know, levers that would remove the necessity of flipping the computer over every time I need to access those particular buttons.)

But back to blogging. As some of you know, I'm very much into history these days. Not trends, or dates, etc (although I'm good at those too), so much as quotes. I am astounded by the ability of dead people to express my own feelings so well. In fact, I look to the wisdom of the ancients whenever I'm uncertain of just what my own feelings are. Like the other day when I found that (possibly dead?) homeless man on the sidewalk; I just asked myself, "What would Roosevelt do in this situation?" Well, number one, he wouldn't touch whatever was coming out of the man's mouth, that's for sure. Check. Beyond that, I had to ask myself which Roosevelt I was referring to. Teddy probably would have skinned the sidewalk man, or at least robbed him (I don't judge—he was a product of his time), while F.D. probably would have just rolled away. Even if the latter Roosevelt wanted to help, he couldn't have (because of the polio), and he wouldn't have called an ambulance, because they didn't have cell phones before he died.

So, what did I do? I followed F.D.R.'s example, and left the body on the sidewalk.

Some people would say that he was our greatest president.

At any rate, my example got away from me there. I was discussing history, and quotes. And resolutions. And blogging, maybe. See, I was thinking about how it's often difficult for me to think of something I want to write about—at least getting started anyway. I mean, what do you people even want? This is my DIARY, after all, so why should it be beholding to you? But then... what would Roosevelt do? I have an obligation, I suppose.

I'm thinking that a little bite of history or literature might be enough to get me rolling.

It just so happens that I was thinking today of something the famous author/athlete C.S. Lewis once said: "I always called it 'channeling the bard,' until I was very nearly in my fifties. What had been a playful euphemism for my very fondest past time suddenly became a code for something I by no means enjoyed. Something that just about killed me."

Lewis' original application of the phrase, as you have likely guessed, refers to his extensive heroin use. As I understand it, the addiction dates to back to the days of his writers' workshop group "The Barrel Boys," which met every week in a local pub, The Chamberlain's Barrel. Tolkien, of course was the other notable member of the Barrel Boys, and Tolkien was largely responsible for getting Lewis hooked on heroin. Not a user himself, it seems like this was a practical joke of Tolkien's (well played, sir).

Although it cost him more than one marriage, the habit never took much of a physical toll on Lewis, and so he never saw fit to quit until the expression, not the addiction, got him into very serious trouble. After Tolkien moved to California, Lewis did his best to maintain The Barrel Boys, however, with the group's very own John Lennon off in Hollywood, the driving force was absent, and the meetings decayed into a semi-regular gathering of whichever "bright lads" were in that corner of the pub that night. The discussion of literature quickly fell away, replaced by... Well, Lewis himself had no idea. Immediately after Tolkien's departure, C.S. doubled his heroin intake (simply for "something to do"), and was never after in much of a receptive state at Barrel Boy gatherings. He must have at least expressed his own feelings at the meetings, however, because "Channeling the Bard" soon became a favorite expression of the young regulars of The Chamberlain's Barrel. Several months into the formation of the "New Barrel Boys" Lewis awoke in a prison cell, with a very insistent lieutenant asking him whether or not it was Lewis who had introduced "channeling the bard" to the youths of whatever the town was (Shropshire?).

Lewis admitted that it was likely his doing, but that he had spent the last several weeks in a state where he could be held fully responsible for very little. It was possible, more than possible, probable, that he had "given it to them" while he was waltzing a little further from sensibility than usual.

At this the lieutenant commenced a truly epic beating.

It turned out that "channeling the bard" was no longer an expression for the intravenous injection of heroin, but a secret phrase of the "bright lads" meaning "to give or receive anal sex" (generally to/from a stranger, although by this point there were very few strangers among the New Barrel Boys). The admission of Lewis' having "given it to them" put the lieutenant over the edge.

I'd like it if "channeling the bard" came back into the lexicon. It has a nice ring to it. I'm wondering, though, which meaning it should retain. I've never channeled the bard myself, but I wonder if there are any enthusiasts out there who might be willing to weigh in? I'm almost inclined to give it a very general definition—nearly anything that can be done in a bathroom, for example, could easily fit the phrase.

Oh, I think that's all for now. The edge of my Phu-Go is beginning to blacken slightly, and I need to consult the manual.