Poor Mojo's Newswire

Dear Giant Squid,

I can't help it, I'm in love, but its causing more pain than I need, no one else seems interested (maybe I don't notice them) I feel like I've wasted the last 6 months of my life, I need a little direction, all I'm asking for is where to look. Can you help?

Signed,
Confused in Culver City
. . .

I was new to my locale. I was wondering in the brain and wandering with the body. I had time and I would stop and stare. I found myself waiting at the doors of bars and coffee shops, standing at a corner for hours listening to female clarinet players racing strange scales with many flats and gaps. I re-read Camus' The Stranger and was doing plenty of sit-ups and push-ups. I was alone and cursing old lovers under my breath.

These things were all weighing heavy on me. I drank too much wine and wanted to refuse anymore. I was sick of drugs, sick of drink, smoke, and pills. I was lonely and wanted companionship. The night before I came inches from escorting a 22-year-old journalist, with a thick throat, into the heartless night. I wanted to, at that time then and now at this time, too. Don't get that wrong.
. . .

Will not entertain you
like those in Tokyo
with their sophistication.

She awaits your arrival by train,
deep in the snow country
of Japan's west coast mountains.
. . .

I think he will be looking at a menu when it is hit. Hank Aaron will be on the street in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania trying to decide what he wants for dinner when Barry Bonds hits his most famous home run. The ball will be hit in Atlanta at Turner Field. The coincidence that Mr. Aaron will be standing 714 miles away from Barry Bonds will not be realized until Bonds retires and his biographer is finishing up research on the book. This fact will make him laugh out loud. Hank will be thinking about how he likes his steak cooked.
. . .