Yeah, so I'm sick again, dagnabbit! And there is no Triple C at work tonight, so even if I had sick time, I couldn't call in tonight. Nothing like 12 hours of work when you can't see straight. I had the craziest NyQuil-induced dream last night/ this morning...

I had written this poem to submit it to some literary journal, and it turns out that David Lynch wanted to use it in his new movie. And he actually shot the scene with me in it. I think the poem was being read while my character got choked on a rainy street at night. I saw the rough cut of the film, and I was still in it... and I really wanted to dub it from Digibeta onto VHS (my job seeping into my dreams a little?), but the guy who was in charge of the tape wouldn't let me, because that's his job. I was pleading with him like "But this isn't the final cut. I know he's going to cut my scene and I need to have this!" He was just like "you'll get the DVD" as he pried the digibeta from my desperate hands.

It was really funny to me, because the poem was supposed to have a nautical theme. I have no idea what it was about, but I imagine it was kind of like "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," but more relatable to modern times, and to Lynch. Therefore, it had to be pretty fucked up.

That's pretty much all I remember, except for like there being a college campus, a girl I wanted to get with and an old high school friend in a bar. I'd say maybe it was too hot for blogger, but knowing my dreams, it wasn't.

So, it is just shy of 6am, as I sit here listening to the Buffalo Tom "Besides" cd. The final track, their stellar, howling cover of "All Tomorrow's Parties" from the Velvet Underground tribute cd. Yesterday morning, sitting in this chair, I was listening to the "Crossing Jordan" soundtrack cd, which features Joe Henry's cover of "Pale Blue Eyes." Talk about synchronicity. I'd been in a total Buffalo Tom mood, but for some reason, I do not own Let Me Come Over. But I have "Taillights Fade" on an old mixtape, and that song just kills me. I've been kinda depressed for cryptic reasons. If my mood was a Blüe Oyster Cult record, it would be called Angst of Unknown Origin.

On the one hand, I'm happy because I got to see Ben Kweller tonight, and hung out with people I haven't seen ina long time, and bumped into people there I hadn't seen in a while. So that was great. Dinner at the Zen Palate was great. Hugs at the tail end of kickball were great. Watching "Dazed & Confused" with Matt when we got home was totally kick-ass. But why am I so down? Maybe I should just be vapid and listen to that happy, crappy mainstream pap, and stop listening to anything moody, edgy or intellgent. I dunno. I'll try posting later on, when I'm more clear-headed. I must sleep now.

So, for a week or so, I've been meaning to write some lame stuff that I think is interesting here, but I've been too busy wasting my free time on Friendster. And guess what... I still need to balance my checkbook! The artist formerly known as the "Hot Russian Woman At Work" has been discovered to not be Russian at all! It turns out that Barbara is from Italy, but her family was only there for two generations, and are actually gypsies (she used the word herself, instead of the more politically correct "Roma," prompting me to further believe that being PC is bullshit. I've been known to be a cheap Jew in my time. Although I still think it is horrible to call an Inuit an Eskimo, because of the meaning of the word, which I cannot remember right now, but which I think has something to do with being an eater of blubber). Related to that, a new acquaintance of mine told me that she jokes that she is a Spike -- because, like Juan Epstein, she is a Puerto Rican Jew. That had me in stitches. Okay. It's 9:45am. Time for bed. I guess I kind of hope I get that 8am-4pm Monday through Friday job that is open. I've got a better shot at getting that than I do of getting the 10am-10pm caching position that isn't officially open yet, although I did start caching over at MTV2 last night. I had to cache the VJ segments for the Top 20 Countdown, hosted by some chach named Jesse Blaze who was wearing a PVC shirt. When I was cueing the tape to record to the computer, I made him look like he was touching himself and rubbing. I think I was enjoyin it wayyy too much. I just really wanted to make a slingshot out of his shirt and have him fly into a wall face first. It made me think of Steve Buscemi's character Seymour in "Ghost World" when Enid turns on the radio in his car, and he reacts to it as this totally obnoxious, in-your-face, hostile bullshit. I felt much like that. Maybe I'm just an old man. I don't know. I've been listening to the two depressing mix cds my brother made a couple days ago. Right now, is the acoustic version of "Driveway To Driveway" by Superchunk. And the names were all we knew. And the names were all erased. This song, even though I had but one night of drunken makeout sessions in my life, it still touches me in the saddest way. I just want to write a song that makes me feel as much as that song.

The sun has started rising behind me and to the left. I should go to bed. I meant to write a lot of stuff tonight, but I spent too many hours on Friendster again. Just realized tonight that the display for the monitor was set at 800 x 600. Thanks Josh, for calling that to my attention. Josh was making me look at the Bouncing Souls website that he somehow got lucky enough to start designing and maintaining back in the lean years. My brother's pics are up there now, as well, from the Sports Plus show they played last weekend, when I was stuck at work, and could not celebrate the tenth anniversary of witnessing the Souls live for the first time, after falling in love with "These Are The Quotes From Our Favorite 80's Movies" all those years ago.

Friday night was the Godspeed You Black Emperor! show at the Warsaw. They were fucking amazing, and I had a great time. A tired, but still witty and charming Nico was great company, as a fellow rubber bumper in that game of pinball known as Average Lameass Concertgoer Worming Through the Crowd. But all that aside, I was just really frightened of the Bastard Son of Nick Cave and Jim Carrey that kept talking, buying drinks and standing in front of Nico. This guy was tall, and sort of dressed like Nick Cave and Jim Carrey ("Once Bitten"-era Jim Carrey, after he turned vampire and dressed all in black, like, er, Nick Cave). That's now two out of three recent posts in which I mention Vampire movies. Wacky. And I watched "Angel" today, furthering the vampire madness. And Jismo is playing Alkaline Trio on his little audiostream right now. Bonus. We lost an hour, and I am gonna end up sleeping my last day off away. I ned to commit more random acts of hygeine, balance my checkbook, pay some bills and buy socks, and a digital four-track.

Last night, I jammed with Mike Andriani and Desirae. It was a lot of fun, because we were playing moody music. Think Galaxie 500, Codeine and Bedhead. But we don't have songs yet. Maybe next time. I've been dying to create music like this for a long, long time (since first hearing Galaxie 500 in 1990, I believe). I need to do this. To stick to it. For so many reasons. Afterwards, what would a night on Long Island be without a diner trip? So to the Rocky Point Diner we did go.

Sometime today, I need to write the poem that can't get out of my head. Something shall be written. Maybe I will go to Borders or something before Saturday Matinee closes. I need to stop by there and witness Sean and WIll working alone together. I need to go to sleep. I will post something worth reading here sometime in the future. Night.

I guess my stomach doesn't take too kindly to the drinking thing. Yep. Definitely not. My instincts were right. If I hadn't started going downstairs when I did, I might have missed the toilet and would have had to clean up after myself. Oh man. I am in no shape to write about the Cursive/No Knife/ Minus the Bear show last night. I am in no shape to do anything. Time to sleeeep.