Hole in my Pocket 25 July 1998

Well, now I know - never start an entry here and tell myself, "Oh, I'll finish this later...."

This stomach has got to go. It's leading so far ahead of me I'm surprised I only had to pay one admission at the movies today. Yeech.

Walked home last night, indeed took about an hour. Not a bad distance at all, the only sticky part is having to go through some dodgy bits of Market Street, but there's usually enough people around so that problems aren't all that likely. He said, reassuring himself.

I think I'm starting to understand what I've always heard from people who were big into spending time in the gym and the like - the addictiveness of physical activity. I went out for a round of indulgent touring today, buying things, brunch, whatnot, and there were several points at which I really had decided to take the bus up to the next place I was going. But then I would get there, and look up the street, and think, "You know, it's really not that far..." I just wanted to keep walking.

These new high tech doctor-approved hiking shoes, I'm sure they feel great and would keep my feet in tip-top shape, but god damn they're ugly. I find it hard to believe that it's really technically necessary to have purple, orange, and brown panels on the things. Black shoes, is that so much to ask for? On the other hand, it would be nice to still have arches next year, so I think the sneakers do have to go. Such are the absorbing dramas of my life.

Today's movie report: Mask of Zorro. Yet another OK movie. I liked the echoes of Drunken Master in the training sequences. Banderas and Hopkins are funny together, and Ms. Zeta-Whatsis is stunning in a porcelain kind of way, but. Sword fights don't do it, maybe; if I hadn't been in the 2nd row with my nose in the middle of the screen, I might have been able to appreciate them more, perhaps. But when the climactic explosion takes place, and the bad guys lose and the good guys come walking out unharmed through the smoke, and I find myself thinking "Oh come on, half of these people would have been killed by the shrapnel alone!" - clearly a certain amount of involvement is missing.

Tomorrow - Purple Hair Day! Hey, anything to draw attention up, you know? Bloat.

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep. © 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne.