Too Much Yawning 27 September 1999

9:06 PM: Thus the Evil Early Work Week begins. The big new system is Go sometime before Friday, and until then, I have to be available - not just emotionally, but physically! - to all of these godforsaken early-rising staff people. It's amazing, the sacrifices I make. I tell ya.

Naturally, the dangerous flip side of that is that I leave earlier. But I go to sleep at the same time as always, because even if I try, I just end up napping for an hour or two. Not to knock napping. So I'm going to be running on about 3 to 4 hours of sleep a night all week. Whee. By Wednesday I should be babbling millenial prophecy at the Muni stations and wearing my trousers backwards. Should be good for a few laughs.

Because the end of the world is coming, you know. All the signs are there. Hurricanes, typhoons, earthquakes, tornados, home videos. Apocalyptic blood-drenched dreams, a big big hard icky bug on the inside of my shower curtain, all the light bulbs burning out on the same day, a man with a giant snake wrapped around his shoulders. These are the End Times.

I blame The Man. And Canada, of course.

Weekend Media Notes: Go see American Beauty. Go right now. If it's not playing, get in line. You weren't doing anything anyway. It's nice to see a man's midlife crisis presented, for a change, not just as ludicrous and pathetic, that though it may be, but as the serious, scary, exhilirating experience that it can be for the actual guy who's having it. But it's not just for us old fogies. My large young friend Fred wanted me to make it very clear that he, too, liked this movie very, very much. I think those were his words, in fact: "I really, really liked this movie very, very much."

Becoming progressively more obsessed with some of the songs off of Juice, this compilation CD from an Australian music magazine that I picked up in Melbourne when I was there. Particularly with the songs by Suede, Felicity Hunter, Placebo, and Endorphin. More new music, hurrah.

Speaking of, in a way, found two excellent CDs in the discount chain outlet downstairs today. The Apocalypse Now soundtrack, a 2-CD set that includes large chunks of dialog and sound effects as well as music from the film, working almost like a radio play. Not something I'd ever be able to play while the babies are at work, but a very cool late night soundtrack.

Then, I found a copy of the album that John Coltrane did with Johnny Hartman, that includes the song "My One & Only Love." I used to hear that all the time on KCSM and it would drive me crazy, trying to find out who that man was who was singing with that perfect voice. Either they would have announced the set before playing it, or they'd then go on to play another 20 minutes worth of music, me sitting attentively all the way through, only to finally have my mind wander for just a few seconds - long enough to realize that I had just missed the track info again. When I finally found out, I walked around my apartment for about a half hour, repeating over & over, "Johnny Hartman, Johnny Hartman, Johnny Hartman", so it might stick in my brain.

I forgot two days later, of course. But finally somehow, it took root. And then there I was, there I was, there I was (sorry...), having gone through about half the new arrivals at the discount store very methodically, and of course finding nothing. I thought to myself, "Eh, fuck it," and just casually looked over the rest of the shelves, to see if anything interesting was immediately visible. Which, yah, boom, right there, goddamn, is that that CD? It was. It is. I love that song, and I love the rest of the tracks on it. Not very long, but very sweet.

I also got a big pile of Invisibles, the bluk of Volume 2 I believe, but I haven't had time to read them yet. Bluk? Bulk. Or bluk. It is the Invisibles, after all. And that works on so many levels.

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.