A Real Nice Time
6 September 2001
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A Real Nice Time
6 September 2001
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12:17 PM: Well, hey, I went to see that Gillian Welch last night at the Fillmore? She sure can sing. And that David fella she's got playin with her, he's a pretty good guitar player, he is. Hard to believe she's from California!
Amazing, how little you need to fill a whole hall like that, how far two guitars and two voices can go. The music didn't feel particularly old-fashioned or nostalgic for all that it's "old-timey" style, either. (I love that phrase. That's the kind of code I write - old-timey.) Beautiful songs. Banjos sound really scary to me, don't know why. I got the CD (avec le T-shirt, naturellement), listen to that Today. Cool.
Miz Veronica went too, and she liked it a whole lot her own self. Then we went and had cheeseburgers at the 24-hour police diner, with potatoe skins (!) instead of fries. Mmmmm. Very full. Nice night.
Came home and watched The Professional on cable. You know, the movie about Jean Reno, the French guy, as a hit man who hooks up with this 12-year-old girl. Played by Natalie Portman, which I never knew. That's how she got that Star Wars gig. Kind of a disturbing relationship, there. Or maybe it's just the director who's disturbed. Or maybe me. For sure, Gary Oldman, he's disturbed.
Tonight is Richard Buckner, that ought to be interesting. If only I could skip the dumb work thing and sleep first. Again with the bolting awake for no reason at 8:30 AM. I was dreaming about a new "Lord of the Rings" story - it seems that the whole thing was really a scam. These mysterious Vasty Powers actually are playing a game with everyone, using the Rings. When it doesn't turn out the way they like, they just erase the whole planet and all the history and start over. God is a teenage video gamer. I buy that, it explains a lot. And yes, I know the Onion already beat me to this joke. Don't they always?
8:09 PM: It's weird. I feel like I've been up for 18 hours straight, instead of just a little over 5. I laid down for Just A Few Minutes around 1 PM. Woke up with a start at nearly 3 (again with the dreams about unjust deaths, too, what is that up?). Of course, MUNI was its usual reliable self. The train that was at the stop when I got there went out of service. A half-hour later, three more trains show up. The first one breaks before it even lets anyone get on. The second one lets us get on it, then it breaks, falls over, and sinks into the swamp. But the third train! That one managed to make it the whole way. When I got to my stop I saw a ballgame had finished recently, that might offer some kind of partial excuse. Naaah.
What a great day to have gone to a game, though. Actually near-hot weather. Man, I want to quit this job. If I worked at home, it wouldn't matter if I woke up at 7:30 AM. I could just work until I got tired and then sleep, then do some more work when I woke up. Of course, that does presume that I would wake up before 11 PM, sort of. It always seems almost plausible to think, "Well, I'll just sleep as much as I want and get it out of my system, I've just got some kind of sleep deficit." Nuh uh. My brain is a Keynesian and my body's in the grip of a recession. There is never enough sleep to pay off that deficit.
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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