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4 December 1998
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4 December 1998
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9:48 AM: Brr brr cold cold what is 'circulation'? cold. Another earthquake this morning, and boy you betcha I felt it. Still out here on the couch trying to harvest the benefits of the morning sun, so my sleep is precarious anyway. Around 4 AM when everything started dancing, it only took a few seconds to realize that I had not in fact been magically transported to Pee Wee's Playhouse. God I miss that show. It'd be over by now anyway. Although Simpsons isn't. We'll never know. Our science is powerless.
Morning sun, yes. I'm not actually at work yet or anything so radical, but awake yes. Smart, me, go to Berkeley today before going to office. Must go exchange tickets for Antony and Cleopatra, originally for next Thursday, which is now needed for Saint Etienne. Doing two things all month, only non-movie events for the entire three month period, naturally they must turn out to be on the same day.
Coming home last night, two lame-ass facial hair drunk boys out on the street cursing and yelling because their poor little SUV was broken into. "Hey! You live here! Is this a bad neighborhood? Should my car have been broken into?" I just said "Should it have? Probably not. Could it have been? Sure." Then they started ringing all the doorbells of all the apartments in the nearby buildings. This is at 2:30 AM, mind you. Went downstairs. "Hey man, they took all my stuff! That was, like, my life! It's not fair!" I told them to stop ringing the doorbells. "Don't you care?" "No, not really." "Oh fine, he doesn't care, man. You green-haired fuck!"
I take back the bit about should it have been.
3:19 PM: Unbelievable. I left the house today around 11:30 and that guy was still out there on the street. "Dude, this is bullshit, man, someone broke into my fuckin car. Dude did you see anything?" This guy is so stupid he doesn't deserve to be drunk. How can he tell?
Snack! breaks new, awe-inspiring ground today: Big Hunk. I didn't need these teeth anyway.
Hey I'm Dumb Dept.: Duh. That Dog broke up a year ago. The CD I thought was new is actually older than the one I thought was old. It's not so much that I mind being wrong as I don't like finding out about it.
5:06: Between hearing the 4th woman at work today casually mention that she can have her boyfriend/husband do that kind of thing for her, and reading one anniversary love note after another, I'm ready to start looking up monasteries on Yahoo. See, I'm not really a generous soul, because otherwise I would welcome the happiness of others. Don't be fooled.
Oh, I remember now. The headline on this afternoon's Examiner is BROTHER HELD IN DEATH OF WOMAN. I admit it'd make more sense to me if I followed the violent-death news more closely like a good American, but come on. What does that mean, exactly? A man who is not an only child is suspected of murdering a woman? A Franciscan? A black man? Who is holding him? Is he grieving? And I can only presume this is a woman we're talking about. Not some grand concept like the Death of Irony. When the headline writer goes to hell, he's going to be in a little room with people like me for ever and ever and ever. Horrifying, isn't 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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