Saturday, January 22, 2005
Procrastination: still got it
Alright, so this rumored Proustian holiday recap is going to have to wait. I keep telling myself that I won't allow myself to write anything until I pull it all together into an essay, but the result has been that I simply haven't been writing... anything.
Quickly, an outline of things I should have mentioned and, hopefully, will soon do so: Little Rock snowstorm, Little Rock subtropical swoon, orgiastic fireplace highs, that Pretenders LP, Milton and his seeping cat ass, drunk bar closeout with Mike from RP, haircut (already mentioned), Steven's car-flipping antics, New Year at Whitewater, incense and peppermints, flaming rock beer, and matzoh ball soup. Okay, I feel better, that gets it onto the page.
Now I can temporarily move on. For those of you not living on the east coast, it is snowing like a motherfucker (I don't know what that means, really, but it's got the properly emphatic tone) and all I want to do is get out and have snowball fights and sled and such. The problem is that my roommate brought a very, very, dangerously inebriated man home with her last night who, after nakedly stumbling into my room thinking it was the bathroom, actually made it to the real bathroom and has been in there, generally fairly quiet and refusing all offers of assistance, for about twelve hours now. I need to brush my teeth. I would love to go to the bathroom. He, however, can't sacrifice his placement (which I understand, poor guy). This might be a new record, though.
Somebody come throw snowballs with me as I will be walking down to the alley to take a much needed slash soon.
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Quickly, an outline of things I should have mentioned and, hopefully, will soon do so: Little Rock snowstorm, Little Rock subtropical swoon, orgiastic fireplace highs, that Pretenders LP, Milton and his seeping cat ass, drunk bar closeout with Mike from RP, haircut (already mentioned), Steven's car-flipping antics, New Year at Whitewater, incense and peppermints, flaming rock beer, and matzoh ball soup. Okay, I feel better, that gets it onto the page.
Now I can temporarily move on. For those of you not living on the east coast, it is snowing like a motherfucker (I don't know what that means, really, but it's got the properly emphatic tone) and all I want to do is get out and have snowball fights and sled and such. The problem is that my roommate brought a very, very, dangerously inebriated man home with her last night who, after nakedly stumbling into my room thinking it was the bathroom, actually made it to the real bathroom and has been in there, generally fairly quiet and refusing all offers of assistance, for about twelve hours now. I need to brush my teeth. I would love to go to the bathroom. He, however, can't sacrifice his placement (which I understand, poor guy). This might be a new record, though.
Somebody come throw snowballs with me as I will be walking down to the alley to take a much needed slash soon.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Only thing left: get a real job
I'm sure there's a word out there in some language (probably compound loving German) that accurately expresses the combination of tension, fear and excitement that one experiences when getting a haircut for the first time in ten years. Click the image to see the urban camoflauge aftermath.
Really, I promise that my next entry will be a Proustian retelling of all the happenings from the past month, I just need the rest of the day to usher my family out of town.
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Really, I promise that my next entry will be a Proustian retelling of all the happenings from the past month, I just need the rest of the day to usher my family out of town.
