Sunday, January 3, 2010

The Notebook

I click on the light in the garage and it's all there. Gutted machines, their colorful wires outstretched like sea anemone. Freakish algorithms scrawled across a white board in blue marker. The machine towering in the center. Its metal frame gleaming, finally complete. And the ghosts of Einstein, Newton, and MacGyver, right where I'd left them.

Newton starts hopping up and down and waving his arms trying to get my attention. I pretend like I don't notice. He's completely incorrigible. The guy has laws named after him and all he talks about is how all the thought that came before him was so elementary. How he didn't really have any shoulders to stand on. How his leap of genius was unsurpassed and the amazing things he could do if he were alive today. If I didn't need him, I'd have told him to kick rocks weeks ago.

Einstein is nice enough, but he seems to enjoy tormenting Newton. When Newton gets all excited about some new concept and begins to talk about it, something that's admittedly valuable, Einstein starts playing his violin. It was funny the first couple of times, because Newton would get all foamy at the mouth and start trying to interact with the corporeal without any success, and that would just piss him off even more. But after that, it interfered with the work.

MacGyver is my favorite. He really made everything work. He had a knack for translating their technical jargon into simple directions. And, in case you're wondering, the real MacGyver is dead and he looks nothing like Richard Dean Anderson. He's short and squat and looks like he could be Frida Kahlo's brother, unibrow and all.

Either way, it's done. The world's first time machine wasn't built at MIT or some prestigious university. It was built in my garage with scrap materials and the help of a Ouija board.

I'm going back in time. Right now. Not to plant my seed in Helen of Troy, or to brain Hitler. I won't be altering events you're familiar with. At least not this time.

I'm going to the year 1990, where I will kick my own ass. I found a notebook from my teen years with all kinds of Morrissey inspired pansy-ass quotations on it. I have to stop myself from being such a pussy, change the trajectory of my early life, and possibly hand deliver a one-day yeast infection cure.

Clearly this is looped in the space-time continuum already, as I didn't grow up to be a superwuss.

I'll be back once my mission is complete.

I leave you with an image of the notebook below. Some of the contents are even worse.


  1. Who needs a time machine when we have Chuck Norris to roundhouse kick us back in time?!

    Your teenage notebook is hilarious. Such angst.

    I do wish I could go back in time and kick the butt of my teenage self. I'd tell her to stop focusing so much on love and boys...and WRITE and focus on learning. UGH

  2. Hunter, my darling, I love your mind! Also pretty cute picture! And when you're back there, could you please stop me from doing something very stupid? Thanks. (And the world is now listening...)

  3. I think we all went through the Smiths phase where everything they said was SO EFFING COOL AND PROFOUND. I played a giant Smiths playlist recently while I was painting and enjoyed the hell out of it. It was like a huge, long whiny suicide soundtrack to my youth except now I think, "Jeezus Morrissey, what did you have to be depressed about, boys and girls loved you equally, you were street cred and talented and a millionaire, shut the fuck up."

    I wonder what Einstein would have said about that.

  4. Since your mission has already been successful there was no need for you to go on it.

    Or was there?

    A nicely paradoxical post.

  5. I' with Rhea--wishing I could kick my teenage ass!

  6. Hi, Rhea. That's right. You guys do have Chuck Norris to take care of things like this in Texas. Thanks for popping by and commenting.

    Hi, Tina. I'll do my best!

    Hi, VA. Yeah, I'll still pop on a Smiths play list once in a while. I'm still a fan, but my gawd is the Moz a whiner.

    Hi, MLS. Time travel is dizzying isn't it? Thanks for popping by.

    Hi, Eva. I'm guessing we all feel that way sometimes.

  7. Hi, Jimmy. I see you know exactly what I'm talking about.

  8. Hunter, this is dead brilliant. I am SO SYMPATICO. I was HORRIFIC in 1990 and I too have the journals and letters to prove it.

    **whispers: I still love the Smiths...**

    Though in 1990 I was weeping along to the Velvets...

  9. I have that same folder somewhere in my attic I am sure. It is right next to my old Docs and a poster of Robert Smith....

    UGH, can't we all benefit from a time machine?

  10. Ha. Hahahahaha.

    This was probably my favourite thing I read this week. I too have notebooks filled with highly embarrassing quotations and angsty rhyming poetry.

  11. Yes. There is a Light saved my life. Okay, that's a slight exaggeration, but...well, you know. Great post (as always).

  12. Hi, Leah. I bet those journals are fantastic. I actually laughed until I had tears from a drawing I found in the one I posted about...

    Hi, Amber. Oh, I know exactly what you mean. The Cure was the first "real" concert I went to, and I too ran around in Doc Martens.

    Hi, Lindsay. Why thank you. Angsty rhyming poetry sounds like fun. I hoped the yellow notebook would've held some of that, but alas it's mostly notes and other nonsense.

    Hi, Jimmy. I hear you. I effin loved that song. I imagined my early demise at the hands of a double-decker bus more than once. How funny.

  13. Cool notebook! And a crackin' good post too.

    I always thought Morrissey was an utter tosser (what's with the flowers?) so while you're back there please tell him for me.

    Nice new pic BTW

  14. Hi, Uber. Why thank you. And, yes, Morrissey was rather effeminate and goofy with all the flowers and what not. Of course, I might have cut you for saying that back then. ;)

  15. don't go back for that! the notebook is precious. (that's because you don't have me? lol!) can you undo the stupid things i did in the 90s? much appreciated!

  16. HOORAY!!! my prayers don't go unanswered, as you embark on your first step of acceptance. at least you hadn't written 'the world is black' and drawn a black rose in black permanent marker, or anything to that degree.

    of course i can say this as i'm still in the said 'zone,' and something tells me my future self will think the current me was a pretentious douche-bag...

  17. Hilarious. I couldn't face reading any of my old diaries; jaysus the utter shite I came up with. :D

    Marvellous post!

  18. Hi, Sarah. I know. It's surprising that a real live girl would've written something like that on there.

    Hi, p.ham. Well, some of the contents weren't far off from that. And I can tell you with absolute certainty that you'll shake your head in wonder about your teen years when you get older. It's a universal law.

    Hi, Judearoo. Looks like there are a lot of us in that boat. At least there's comfort in that. ;)

  19. Oh God. Flashback to notebooks* FULL of the worst poetry evs.

    This always makes me think of The Young Ones and Rik's Teen Anguish Poem:

    oh god,
    am I so much more sensitive than everybody else ?
    do I feel things so much more acutely than them,
    and understand so much more.
    I bet I'm the first person who's ever felt as rotten as this.
    could it be
    that I'm going to grow up
    to be a great poet and thinker, and all those other wankers in my class
    are going to have to work in factories or go on the dole?
    yes, I think it could.

    *Yes, PLURAL.

  20. So if there's something you'd like to try,
    if there's something you'd like to try...

    You shouldn't ask me about my childhood notebooks.
    They ooze with embarrassing earnestness.

  21. well, yes...there was a 'novel'(though one can hardly dignify it in that term) i attempted during my meg cabot phase.

    am i currently shaking my head in dismay? yes.

  22. Great post Hunter. A couple months ago my Mom came across a box of stuff from my pre-teen and teen years. I giggled for hours going through that box as I was more of an 80's teenager. The hairstyles in the yearbooks were funny enough.

  23. Hi, S&C. I used to love watching The Young Ones. Boom-Shaka!

    Hi, Hannah. And I thought I was the only one. ;)

    Hi, p.ham. I wish my embarrassing moments were as noble as an attempt at a novel.

    Hi, Melissa. That sounds great! I definitely remember the big hair decade. Hope you are well and that 2010 is good to you.

  24. I have no idea what you're talking about? But it all seems rather fascinating! :D

  25. Hi, Kid. I also find it baffling. Thanks for swinging by and commenting.