Thursday, November 21, 2002

Okay, so today was better. If only marginally so.
It was my day off, for one, so that was nice.
I applied for work at two places. One of them is another coffee shop where my friend Lisa works. She apparently is the head girl there, and has been for a bit, but is leaving. She gave me the application without asking and said she put in a good word. Whoot!
I also applied to Borders. Man, a four page application to hawk over-priced books! Actually, it was more an act of Solidarity with Jayward, who also applied at Borders. We Jays must stick together.*

I also finished the second Harry Potter book. I derided them for a long time, and have been fully sucked in. It really was a great little book. I'm looking forward to reading the third one. And seeing the film.
Not only are they well-written and well-plotted little things, but they teach morality in a way that is effective and not all sappy or obtrusive. A hudred years ago, they'd have a big label on that says "Improving Moral Examples!"

When I went to visit my parents for dinner last week, I was surprised to see three of my nieces staying with them. When conversation died (four minutes into dinner, natch -- I checked) I innocently asked "Will you be going to see Harry Potter this weekend?"
I should mention that my sister is an ultra-right wing fundamentalist Christian, as in no Disney (they support Gays!) and never, under any circumstances, that little magick-wielding Satanist limey, Potter.
You'd think I 'd asked if they were going out for a round of genital piercing after a long night of sodomy.Not that they -- or even their mother, for that matter -- would know what that means.
These three little girls didn't speak to me the rest of dinner. My parents, amusingly, were full of smirks.
All I really want to know is what monster stories my sister is telling these kids...

I'm starting The Two Towers tonight, although I did read the first chapter of I, Claudius and was fascinated by it.

Hmm. I need to come up with $20 to keep them from turning off the phone tomorrow. If I don't post, folks, you now know why.
I will freak out though.
I wish I knew where one could go to pick up tricks. I'd so do that at this point for some hot food or some cold booze.

(Amusingly, some one who said they have a crush on me has not been for two days. The tongues of de men be full of de lies...***
I'm not at all upset. I was biting my tongue, dying to say "Really, now, how much *have* you had to drink to say I'm cute?" as he was speaking. I've got no problem in seeing him again, though, 'cause deep down I do like to hear those kinds of things.
And how much I really believe him is a little secret I'll keep to myself.)

*If I get the job, I'm getting new glasses and wearing them all the time.
** Henry V, Act V, scene ii

Tuesday, November 19, 2002

There are days when it just doesn't seem worth it to keep going. I pretty much feel like that right now. I'm so tired of being poor and harrassed. I've not slept well -- barring one night -- for probably three months. I'm beginning to think the black rings around my eyes may well be permanent now.
Friends would be nice: I got the royal sham tonight from somebody I've wanted to talk to for days. Not that it was so very bad in itself (nor was it a pleasure) but the timing was all wrong. I mean, Jeez, not *tonight*.
Or having fun would be nice. Or being happy. Besides the same time as the good night's rest, the last time I was happy was driving to the Employment Office months ago. I remember it quite well: the sun, the color, zipping around old 86, the to do for BossaNova on the radio...
Being poor takes so much energy that sometimes I think it may just be easier to give up: a draught of sleeping pills or a flick of a razor.*

Oh, I know I should stop moaning. I called and got extensions on the last three pressing bills and paid the last of the overdue rent today. All I need before next paycheck is $20 for the phone bill, which I need before Thursday, but I think I can get.
But I'll be busted till 13 December. (My next paycheck is total already budgeted out.) Most of that's spoken for, as well.

Okay, Jay, make yourself Happy:
Top Ten Things I would do with Ten Guilt-Free Dollars:

10) A six-pack of Rolling Rock Lite
9) The Perks of Being A Wallflower
8) A ticket to Harry Potter
7) a large latte with a shot of raspberry
6) Anne Rice's Queen of the Damned
5) a Wendy's Spicy Chicken Combo, Biggie-sized
4) A ticket to the new James Bond movie
3) New Lemony Snicket
2) Any of the Doctor Who novels from the past six months
1) Belle and Seabstian's If You're Feeling Sinister on VINYL**

Speaking of Belle and Sebastian, there was this faboo show on WXDU tonight as I drove home from work. I called in and requested B&S and they played "The Wrong Girl." Whoot!

I'm beginning to feel all slightly swoony of late, and it's worth mentioning cause it makes me feel so much better, but I don't like to talk about these kinds of things before the fact, out of supersticious fear. That, and I have a gentleman's sense of discretion.
I mean, somebody who can correct my French and Latin...

*Chill out. Like I'm brave enough to try.

**I've so decided this will be First Purchase after I actually make money. I'll sit in my hovel and listen to Judy and the Dream of Horse and Stars of Track and Field over and over, drink beer and be happy.
I may cry. I mean I want to now, but that's the one thing I will not let myself do till I break even. I'm afraid if I start, I just won't stop. I mean, this shit is really hard to get through. And that's how I've decided to celebrate getting through it.
The 13th of December after I cash my check, get out of work, I'm going to CD Alley and buying that album.

Monday, November 18, 2002

If brevity be the soul of wit,
then let also be the seat of pity -- note especially the last two verses.

Miniver Cheevey, child of scorn,
Grew lean as he assailed the seasons;
He wept that he was ever born
And he had reasons.

Miniver loved the days of old,
When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;
The vision of a warrior bold
Would set him dancing.

Miniver sighed for what was not,
and dreamed, and rested from his labors;
He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot
and Priam's neighbors.

Miniver mourned the ripe renown
That made so many a name fragrant;
He mourned Romance, now on the town,
And Art, a vagrant.

Miniver loved the Medici.
Albeit he had never seen one;
He would have sinned incessantly,
had he been one.

Miniver cursed the commonplace
And eyed a khaki suit with loathing;
He missed the mediaeval grace
Of iron clothing.

Miniver scorned the gold he sought
But sore annoyed was he without it;
Miniver though and thought and thought
And thought about it.

Miniver Cheevey, born too late,
Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed and called it fate,
And kept on drinking.