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Friday, April 30, 2004

Cue The Cure
Ever since I started driving, I've had this possibly odd tradition of playing several songs by The Cure (In Between Days, Just Like Heaven, Doing the Unstuck, and Fri. I'm in Love) after every semester while driving home, once all my papers and exams are finished. I think it started when Big Gray would pick me up from school. He'd come home from college and have all sorts of music for me to listen to--although, he was listening to the Cure during high school. Needless to say, I'm finished.

As I dropped off my final research project, high school band kids were getting reading to play at some competition on campus. Several guys were sticking out their thumbs to cars that drove by. Heh. "Funny." Bet they were drummers.

Thursday, April 29, 2004

"I feel like I have to throw up again. Maybe I should go home."
--Ms. Comrade after 2 bottles of shared wine and many heart-wrenching conversations about how shitty this year has been for both of us.

Topics of conversation included:
death
crappy jobs
hodgkins lymphoma
kidney cancer
racism
relationships

Any takers?

There is an unidentified gray blob on the floor of my dining room. I will leave that for Big Gray to deal with.

My dog just spent 20 minutes rubbing his butt on the rug and growling. I guess it feels that good.

My first period class watched me scream and run away when a visitor from the nature reserve came at me with a snake.

I ate my weight in nachos.

And fiinally, I respect Sally's dedication to poetry month. All y'all can just shut up about it.

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

an inexplicably good mood
I really have every reason not to be in one, but I've just eaten a sandwich, checked blogs and I'm on my way to eat a mallomar, drink a DC and smoke.

Tonight I am making a list of complaints and tomorrow I have decided to take charge, march into the administration office and recite them like kid in a Christmas play. I may be unemployed at day's end, but I couldn't be more miserable so it's a gamble.

In light of recent events, I'm setting my standards low these days.

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

Restoration Heartbreak
In post WWII America,
Savvy armament purveyors
TURNED (turned) their metal-
stamping talents to creating furnishings
for the peaceable practice of relaxing
on the porch.

Our replicas are formed
from steel and finished in two-toned
enamel.

(for BG, Sally and gorj, and their endless pursuit of poetry)

Sunday, April 25, 2004

The Day After
I watched Spartan, the new Mamet film, last night. At the time, I thought I loved it. This morning, however, I realized I was fooling myself. Plot: the president's daughter is involved in a sex trade ring. An ultra underground division of the secret service is sent to find her. Overall, it relies on an incredibly implausible conspiracy theory; not to mention, it's excessively preachy (like Wag The Dog). The Spanish Prisoner isn't believable either, but the difference is that he never tried to portray Prisoner as realistic. There were some great moments, but also confusing, undeveloped, cliche, and unbelievable ones.

You're The Feeling In My Life. You're The Inspiration.
Last night I had a dream that the people (and animals) around me, including Mame and BG's dog Charlie, were radiating a green glow. I concluded that they were possessed. Must be Days influencing my subconscious--I swear I only watched one episode.

Lately, SNL + Woody Allen - wit = me
I've noticed that my life resembles two character skits on Saturday Night Live: Mr. Short-term Memory and Mr. No-Depth Perception (of course, switch the Mr.'s to Ms.). I'll think of something I want to do (i.e. get the mail when arriving home), and then 5 seconds later do the complete opposite (i.e. walk into my apartment). I also bump into anything and everything (i.e. table corners), even when I take steps to avoid it. Then, I watched Annie Hall a few evenings ago, and discovered that I'm increasingly just as neurotic as Allen.

Twilight
Every year they have this big bike race, every year I have a miserable time. Yet I persist.

carpe diem
Ms. Comrade and I seized the day and got out in the sun, had lunch outside with vodka enhancers, sat under a tent and listened to Big Gray DJ downtown watching hot guys do tricks on bikes and apparently got sunburned. This part was ok. Later, when the races were over and we tried to get to a show we were greeted with too many people and too many unsolicited conversations from a guy suspiciously young-looking and way too in to talking about being drunk and being in a band. We left, happy to be going home after a mere 13 hour day.

In college, my friend The Reverend and I took one of many Italian classes together. We were learning about clothing and were to devise a skit (eeew) to illustrate our knowledge of conversational Italian. Our subject was shoes, scarpe. Our store name? Scarpe Diem.

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