9 August 2001
12:36 PM: Hey look at that, after noon already. How time does fly. Whoop whoop. Long long day yesterday, much talking and conspiring. It's fun, but Man. I was wiped out. It gets to the point where I'm so tired that I wake up, like sleeping takes too much energy. No, it doesn't make any sense to me either. This whole journal is something of a continuing documentation of things that don't make sense to me.
Went out anyway, despite some vague plans not to. Habit is a mighty force. Plus, Lana is time-traveling through Buffy and had hit the first of the Angel crossover episodes, so I had to give her the tape. God, it feels like ages and ages since that was on the air. It'll be strange to see it without The Frog. Oh! And Alyson Hannigan was on Conan O'Brien last night, too! Bumster. It would be nice if someone were to have captured that, and if they would do something like put it up on some kind of computer network. But of course, no one would do that. Because it's wrong.
Tonight, another show at Bottom of the Hill. This time it's Dressy Bessy, from Colorado I believe. And The Orange Peels too, which is neat, as I've never seen them. And it's Thursday already. I need to get a haircut soon. All poofy now. Dunno, everything appearance-related just seems to not matter too much. I am starting to blob past the tolerances of my pants again. Another data point in favor of working at home: No Pants.
7:42 PM: This is fucking pathetic, that's what this is. I. Can. Not. Keep. My. Eyes. Open. I have gotten maybe a total of two hours worth of work done in the 5, 6 hours that I've been here. Spent the entire rest of that time just trying to wake up. It's a goddamned stupid farce and a waste of time and energy and mental health. I dunno. Looks like I just have to always work in an environment where I can go take a nap for an hour or two at a moment's notice....
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.