There's A Big Day Coming About A Mile Away...

It's weird how when I worked at Tower, I got so stressed out that I actually smoked so I could take more (read: ANY) breaks. Now that I work 12 hour shifts at MTVN, I find myself drinking more alcohol. Last night on my lunch break (with my supervisor, no less) at Chili's for two hours plus, I tried to keep up with Sean and Mike, but only had four beers to their six each. I'm kind of a lightweight still. But I only weigh 160 pounds and am not an alcoholic. Kipes - drinking contest: me, you and a dog named Boo. Anyhow, that was the fourth night in a row I had been drinking. In fact, Saturday night, I actually drank enough at Andre & Danielle's party to warrant calling in late to work. Props to Dre for letting me borrow his Sleater-Kinney shirt after I got sangria or whatever all over my pure-white Beta Band shirt.

I'm still not sure when I start my new shift at work. I heard the 24th, but Sean told me he sent an email to the department head about it, so he wouldn't tell me when. All I know is that on the 31st, I am going to be at Saints 'n' Sinnners (sic) from 9pm until 1am or thereabouts, to support my homewaffles. Dean (my soon-to-be-supervisor) will just have to deal.

I just realized I am posting this to my own blog. I was going to post this on Kipes' blog originally. Oh well. I am an idiot. This fact is confirmed by my not having put the air conditioner in my room yet because I thought I would move next door before it got hot. So I have slept in my parents' room, my brother's room and the livingroom the past few mornings, with another round of the livingroom couch to follow shortly, methinks. Also, I will probably have to wait a couple weeks to get my house finished, because Larissa, my home decorating center of the universe, with her loving and tender painterly strokes against my walls, will be in Barcelona for ten days starting Wednesday. When she gets back, I think I will make her watch "Barcelona" by Whit Stillman, because I have it on DVD and it is fascinating. I mean, not as fascinating as any film by Guy Madden, but then again, few things are. Stillman makes great dialogue movies, and I do love great dialogue. Madden is on the other side of the spectrum, where films are impressionistic in flavor and dialogue is infrequent, yet not missed.

Any of you who are interested in watching arty films with me drop me a line. I hate to watch those kinds of movies by myself. I'm not saying that I'm lonely, just that this is my last summer in my twenties and I'd like it to not suck. Although, why would I want to end the streak so close to the end? My thirties will be particularly rewarding, I believe. I think that my recently-acquired maturity and my newfound attitude in regards to brain vs. heart will payoff like a Superball lottery -- mostly, it will not be legal in many states, most of the winnings will be taxed, and what I do get to keep will be shared with a bunch of people missing most of their teeth. Something like that.

You all are wondering when my book will be done. I have no clue. I've written two paragraphs for it in the last three months, and it is going into Chapter One. Maybe I need a stenographer to type my incessant meanderings, as I seem to bring up a lot of the stories that will make up the core of my book. Oh wait, they just made a movie about that. Luke Wilson plays me. Kate Hudson plays every female archetype you've ever fantasized about, ever. I want to see it really badly, even though everyone says it's probably stupid, and Newsday panned it. Hey, who wants to go see a cheesy romantic comedy with me and watch as I drool over Kate Hudson until I realize she is married to a complete skeeveball and how gross that is, but then remember that it doesn't matter, because I watch "Charmed" just to see Rose McGowan, who used to be married to another skeeveball. Hey, I too cause religious controversy by wearing my "Jesus Christ. Period." shirt and by having a "Buddy Christ" on my dashboard, so where is my sexy, flame-haired vixen, huh? I demand my comeuppance. Naughty J-Ros need love, too. Okay, now I'm just being ridiculous, cousin Larry Appleton. Yeah, so this is why I haven't written much in my book lately. I hope you at least get some pleasure out of this crap, while it delays my book's publication and eventual worst-seller status.

Speaking of my book, I was discussing with my friend Shaggy (otherwise known to the world as Matthew A. "Two Sheds" Martin, formerly of Trumansburg, NY) how I had let my friend Will see a film he and Justin Goltermann had made in college. The artist formerly known as Evil Shaggy then mused about how he would like to make another film one day, but doubted Justin would be interested in making another film with him. I said that I, too, would be interested in a film project in the not-too-distant future, but if I were to make a film it would be based on my book, which as we all know, is nowhere near done. I then toyed with the idea of making a film based on the uncompleted book, while the book is still unfinished, because it's so crazy an idea it just might work. Mr. Two Sheds boldly proclaimed that it "just might work" since the book is based on my life and for the film all one would have to do is roll the camera and "Voila!" He may have used a different expression in the same vein, though I know for sure it was not "Eureka!" It certainly wasn't "Land ahoy, matey!" Nor was it "Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage!" But he was indeed keen on the idea, unlike the old people on the bus who kicked off the two brothers who ate a briefcase full of worms after singing the song about eating worms, to which they were all singing heartily themselves. Will, too, seemed to think that this film based on an unfinished book idea could hold water, much like a super-absorbent maxi pad they show on those television ads. Speaking of, why do they always use water that looks like it came from a toilet with a fresh supply of 2000 flushes? Are you women actually aliens, and bleed blue blood just like big black bugs, to paraphrase a Mr. T Experience album title? Okay, I totally have no idea what the hell my fingers are rambling on about now. I think I must sleep, perchance to dream, if but for a short while. Wake me when it's over. When what's over, you ask? I don't know, you tell me. As long as it's BEFORE you go-go. Because if you leave me hanging on like a yo-yo, I may just have to get all Bruce Banner on yo' ass.

Mork calling Orson, come in Orson...nanu nanu.

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"All You Need Is Love, All You Get Is Afraid"

I was listening to a live Robyn Hitchcock tape in the car on the way home from work, and that line, from "Aquarium," just stuck out and I had to mention it. It kind of encapsulates the way I feel today. I'm way too tired to go into details (not that I was gonna go into details anyway), but I feel like I've been making so much progress with the other areas of my life -- job, house, lots of great friends, working on my book, writing songs that actually don't suck, etc. -- yet it seems like there's no romance in the cards. It just isn't there. I know that part of it was that I was looking too hard for a while. Then, I was trying to fight my feelings, but then it turned into an REO Speedwagon song, which was responded to with a different REO Speedwagon tune, but not the one I'd hoped. Now I'm just kind of floating in some "Bohemian Rhapsody" lull, where "nothing really matters. Anyone can see. Nothing really matters to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee." If you're not quite following, don't worry. There's nothing really dramatic to report. Life's just a series of dreams, according to the former Robert Zimmerman. This makes perfect sense, of course, as I feel like my life lately has been devolving into a ridiculous sitcommy soap-opera, much like "SOAP," which, incidentally, is probably one of my favorite shows of all time now that I think about it. I mean, you got a defrocked priest with a demonically-possessed baby, a husband abducted by aliens and replaced with a replica, a gay son fighting with his brother's ventriloquist's dummy, a love story involving a mafia don's daughter, another son lured into a cult, and a South American revolutionary thrown in for shits and giggles.

Well, there really wasn't a point that I was driving at, but I didn't I reference the 70's and 80's (my prime boyhood years) quite nicely? I think I may have to pick up a new copy of Hi Infidelity by REO Speedwagon sometime soon. I'm sure the 8-track is pretty shot by now. Oh yeah, btw, Schatzi's cover of "Anyway You Want It" by Journey on their split cdep with Motion City Soundtrack is pretty killer. Definitely the best thing on the disc. Dawn might disagree, but I'm old, so I win.

It's 8:07am, time for bed.

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