That Time of the Century
6 February 2001
5:03 PM: Being asleep was nice this morning. From there it's pretty much gone downhill. Not in any kind of serious way, with threats or dangers so alarming that they reset your brain and demand full attention. It's been a paper-cut kind of day. A little too windy. No table quite in the sunlight. A little too long for the train. Passengers a little too loud and a little too stinky. Music at work a little too stupid. Pop-Tart a little too hot, ow.
I don't know why I have such a headache on top of it. I forgot to take the Wellbutrin this morning, but I only started yesterday. One hopes that this is too small a time scale to matter. But, perhaps not.
Tonight is Death Cab for Cutie. I will go. Dammit. Even though nobody else can be bothered, and this is exactly the kind of thing I skip on so I can feel sorrier for myself.
Pit bulls pass me in the street and say, "Whoah, what's with the attitude?" Today is not a day to talk to strangers. Today is a day to not talk at all. At least they postponed - I think - the meeting tomorrow from 10 AM to 3:30 PM.
Oh! but! in good news, I think I forgot to note here that the garbagemen really did come and pick up my ratted-out old foam couch from in front of the apartment building the way they said they would, Monday morning. It's gone! One down, one to go. Then I will be furniture-free. Think how much more trash I can pile up! It's exciting.
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
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The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne.