Bounce
21 September 1998
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Bounce
21 September 1998
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Miserable night. Hiccups don't sound too scary, do they? I guess they're not. Not until they turn into body-racking spasms every minute, and between the gas your stomach is producing from being bounced around and the air you swallow everytime your diaphragm goes flopsy, you swell up like a blimp. Until you're lying there after an hour of this, making deals with God if he will only make it stop... Then they're pretty scary.
But even though I was lying there fully awake at 8 AM this morning, making little mooing sounds, it never occurred to me to get up and go watch M. Clinton on the television. Which, after I realized that it had been on, was a little disappointing. I was curious to see if what I expected would be born out: that he would end up looking much better, not worse, once you could hear the questioners as well as the answers. On the other hand, at that hour of the day, it might have been worse than hiccups. Some things are not meant to be seen before noon.
It's Big Dramatic Project Finish! week here at work. I'm not sure what that will end up meaning. Panic, I think. That'll be nice, I like panic. Clears the sinuses.
Another dream last night about romance in Eureka. What is that about? I know for sure that the real Eureka bears little resemblance to the vague town of my dreams, but that's what I keep calling it. It's some kind of muddled symbol for Home, I suppose, though I never have actually lived in Eureka. New, Improved Childhood - now with rainfall!
One interesting bit in last night's dream: it seemed clear that one of the main reasons that I was attracting the interest of the two girls in the dream was that I was one of the only single men in town. That sounds like more of a direct hint - "Son, you're never gonna be a big fish until you find a smaller pond." I suppose that's realistic, but man. And again with the painfully real romance, too. Couldn't I just have a wet dream like a normal geek? Oh no, I have to care.
Speaking of being a pathetic loser, did I mention that the local alterna-not-really weekly gave me three free extra weeks on the personal ad I took out with them? Hmm, now that I think of it, it was all free anyway. So not a big sacrifice on their part. But still. I guess it's nice that they're taking pity on me. Maybe I should use that. "Please, if you don't respond, the people running this section in the paper will feel really bad about it."
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. | ||||
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