Ultramundane.com -- It's Just Not Natural.

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United States, California, San Francisco, The Mission, English, Spanish, Casey, Male, 31-35.

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Saturday, March 8, 2003

Saturday Night's All Right.

Telephone ringing, but I don't answer it
Cause everybody knows, good news always sleeps 'til noon.
--Cowboy Junkies, "Sun Comes Up, It's Tuesday Morning"

I once thought it would be cool to change my name to "Good News" and work only afternoon shifts.

The Roommate is at an all-day meeting, so I get the house to myself. I've spent half of it sleeping, the other half in my pajamas in front of the computer. Didn't make it to the bank; didn't make it to the furniture store; haven't even managed to clean the glitter-and-pee off the bathroom floor nor scrub the oatmeal out of the pot from this ~~morning~~ afternoon. Maybe in a minute. Or maybe I should just go get ready for tonight.

A couple weekends ago the Boyfriend and I had Japanese food and saw a wonderful Russian movie, Russian Ark. It's a completely improbable production: the whole film (with 867 actors) was shot in one take in the Hermitage in St. Petersburg; the film wears four centuries of Russian history and international art like hats. This Saturday, however, we're going with friends to eat American food and watch an American movie which is, um, neither about art nor history. We're nothing if not about contrasts.

The Boyfriend has also apparently been on a kick lately trying to see if he can write email that makes me cry. At least it's Saturday so I'm not crying in the office. He's a sweet one as well as a tasty one.

04:06 PM PST (link)

Friday, March 7, 2003

Me And My Shadout-Mapes.

On the plus side, having reviews of all my projects today before 2pm will mean I migh be finished earlier. On the down side, I may have to spontaneously split in two to accomplish it. Though you'll have to pardon my odor when I do; instead of roses or tobacco, I'm sure my mystical presence would be announced by my otherworldly coffee breath.

It is by will alone I set my mind in motion. It is by the juice of saphoo that thoughts acquire speed, the lips acquire stains, the stains become a warning.

12:24 AM PST (link)

Thursday, March 6, 2003

Ladies and Gentlemen, Whether You Blog It Or Not: Hedwig!

I think we were all really into the show. Some of us more than others.

I'm definitely not going for the First Post award here, but I was busy. My thanks to Jill, Vince, William Ted, Gretchen, Cheyenne, Erik and Zack, Sharon, The Boyfriend* and his friends, for a great time at last night's performance of Hedwig. I'm not sure whether meeting and seeing you all made the show more exciting or vice versa.

But I know one thing: The graphical abomination posted here ought to inspire me to post more. How many days before it falls into the archives? Shudder.

03:32 AM PST (link)

Tuesday, March 4, 2003

4:20, Dude!

Du-u-u-ude.

No, I don't go smoke herb in the parking lot behind the portables. But I do notice that at about 4:20 pm every weekday, my energy level drops precipitiously and I scurry into the kitchen for a cup of my favorite drug. I think the crash is earlier and harder today because, since I was craving Marti Gras King Cake, I caved and had a cookie with lunch. It wasn't the same, and it has wreaked havoc on my blood sugar, I'm sure.

Fat Tuesday indeed.

(And no, I wasn't actually fishing for a nomination for Most Caffeinated Blogger, there, but now that you mention it....)

04:20 PM PST (link)

O Come, Let Us Abhor Them.

Irritable. I find myself stepping in front of people, cutting them off on the sidewalk because they're slower than I am. I realize hours later that someone's conversational opening ("So, have you been sick lately?") was an opening because he wanted to talk about himself. Oh, I forgot, that smalltalk thing. I'm sullen, suspicious, and disrespectful of others. In short, I am running with sissors and not playing well with others.

I feel tired and mean, and liable to transform into something wholly uglier than I already feel. And as if to comply with the inner thoughts, my face is greasy and I'm starting to break out, and occasionally my voice has been falling into little more than a croak. But with the mood I'm in, I imagining the claws and flippers forming and suddenly my coworkers discover that my ancestors' name was actually Marsh.

That would explain why our kitchen sink smelled like that yesterday.

Of course, whatever I suspect of my potential, there will be those who say I was never very scary to begin with.

Instead I'll just chalk this all up to eMenses and think positively of the week ahead. Like the BlogMeet Wednesday to see Hedwig at the Victoria. Like Bingo on Thursday. Like Friday, Sweet Blessed Friday.

What day is it today? Damn.

12:42 AM PST (link)