No Hope
3 November 2000
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No Hope
3 November 2000
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8:44 PM: Terrible, aggressive, screaming-mad dreams last night. Woke up around ... 9 AM? or so, pissed off at everyone and everything I could think of, for no special reason (though I was able, as usual, to make up a few). Why this is? I don't know. Too much caffeine before bedtime maybe. Not enough beer. Need more electroshock.
Speaking of shock therapy, Sleater-Kinney were just beyond words again last night. Young Penny attended this time, so we went early and got seats in the balcony. These are pretty nice at the Great American Music Hall, and let a small person see the stage and avoid any repeat oxygenless incidents. The only drawback was sitting through the whole show. Hard to do sometimes!
Oh they are so good. Every song that I thought of during the day Thursday, wishing they had played it the night before, they ended up playing tonight. Along with all the good things from Wednesday, "Joey Ramone", "Not What You Want", "Dig Me Out" with the weird long very, er, tense instrumental coda... Carrie is so much of a rock star it's hard to believe. Janet kicked our butts around the room as usual. Oh heck - these folks say everything there is to say, with a lot more authority than I have. It was just great. (And I'm glad to see I'm not the only one with the "Is Corin pregnant???" conspiracy theory!)
Today, after waking up, I tried to go back to sleep, and didn't until it was time to wake up. Then I came to work and didn't. My PC has crashed 7 times. I ate a burrito and two donuts. They tore the building at the corner down, which answers pretty conclusively our questions about whether or not someone would reopen the bar there anytime soon. I have a dentist appointment on Election Day.
Oh! And! The energetic Portugese intern left, but my office crush came back! Sad thing is, though, she barely knows I'm alive. Which was always pretty much the case, but, you know, without daily evidence to contradict one, it's easy to edit things. I am a cipher. I suppose there are worse fates - like being a code.
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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