it's 2:36 pm, on January 28, 2002 - the intensely inane.
~
I often find myself at loose ends when Cathy's not online. Not because we have deep meaningful conversations, and not because we even talk that much -- sometimes it's all about sitting there and just staring blankly, thinking "meh!"
You know how it is.
But, she also provides small-minded amusement, like "JC should wear a shirt that says 'you only hate me because I'm beautiful!' and then Joey should take it off" and things. Or, "this song should be the soundtrack to a blowjob. um. yum." Things like that can amuse me for hours. Small things, I know.
But, so, she went to work just now, and I have the whole afternoon to amuse myself, and I'm not good at that. Do not feel like being productive -- already today I have cleaned the bathroom, written out four chapters of Latin vocabulary and two for grammar. And when I say I cleaned the bathroom, I *cleaned* the bathroom. Scrubbed. Anyway.
Wanting: a DQ blizzard.
There's snow outside, all shiny and new, and a really really blue sky. Looking out the front window this morning gave me snow blindedness -- did a lot to decide that I didn't want to drive in to school. Snow? No.
No SCR in my dreams last night, not that I remember anyway. Can't remember what I *did* dream... there might have been something about shoes. Am not entirely sure.
My nsync calendar is announcing, right now that it's Joey's birthday. So, happy birthday to you, champ. In three days, it will be Justin's birthday. I'd sure love to go to *that* joint party.
I read the recap of Queer as Folk, just now, and have decided that I'm going to watch the ep tonight. I miss 'awwwwing' over Justin and Brian, as opposed to Justin and Chris.
Very soon, if possible, I'm going to have to try and find someone much more dedicated to school than I am to carpool with. I find myself going to school a lot more frequently if it's a joint-effort.
At loose ends, without Cathy. Normally, between her and Sheila, they absorb the mundane and trivial thoughts I have, and leave more interesting ones for my too-many-journals. Now, diaryland is delegated to hear all about my BGL issues (that's Big!Gay!Lance) since I watched the Atlantis concert this morning, and, wow. Hot man, I must admit. He has a casualness that I only try to emulate.
Told Cathy, earlier, that I think I'm becoming an alcoholic without the actual drinking part. Because I wanted a drink. And, I'm not going to get one, but, just, a party would be nice. I'm only a social drinker, but I think, I like being social a little too much. --except, I don't.
"what I wha-wha-whatta 'm gonna do!"
Miss Britney, I [heart] you.
What else? Apparently, Pablo Neruda was gay. This, I did not know until Tiff said so in a story, which, thank you Tiff. Her and Sandy are part of the tribe, even if they don't know it.
Also: I have a phone card with some money on, that I have to use soon. Will pick up the receiver, dial some numbers, and talk to some people that live far away.
--that statement is far more weighty than it first appears. Just, the words themselves have caught me up.
Also: Saw the video for Matt Good's "anti-pop" today. I am such a whore for music vids; this one had them stealing a gnome and taking pictures with it all over the country. Note to self, okay? Before driving around the country, steal a gnome. Right. Good.
Rossi-the-aussie-music-pusher has taken over my headspace. All those australians are rattling around inside, having a nice little party. Eventually, my inner diva will have an australian accent. --I sent her a letter that was very, in-the-moment kind of love, and the day after, she posted an entry about thinking she hadn't inspired anyone to passion. Or something like that. And I'm glad I sent her the letter, because baby, oh yes, and also, it wasn't out of any kind of knowingly cheering up.
Or, y'know. What I mean, with actual words attached that make sense.
"I wish everyone was wrong!--"
Ben Lee, you sing it.
Dex was just making declarative statements about the CBFFAs. I wonder if all the other weirdly popular awards shows have as much shit as they do. It amuses me to picture MTV VJs sitting around, trying to figure out how not to piss of P. Diddy and still politely let everyone know that he sucks ass, and then try and showcase Jennifer Lopez's ass without showcasing *her*.
I'm not liking the J. Lo. Prefer her as an actress. --see what I mean? The incredibly inane.
"I am ready, I am ready, I am ready, I am fine--"
I told Cathy, today, as well: I think I'm getting an ego. Because I find myself actually rereading my work, once and a while, because I want to read the words themselves. Ego. Much. I'll have to work on this, because though I do appreciate the fact that some of my lines are good, I need work. A lot of work. Also, an editor, but, I don't know if I'd listen to an editor, anymore. It's too much in the style, in the minute.
Outside is a winter-wonderland; I am made of clay.
I stole the clay off Al. Really should stop doing that, but, find I can't give up on things that're rattling around in my headspace.
Oh, that's something I wanted to say: the same day I mailed Rossi a letter of love, I ended up sending a crapload of stuff to people to say, Happy Valentine's Day, and also, a lot of things that are a lot more obscure. The same day, however, I managed to lose my clipboard between driving from the Shoppers, and driving home. I remember throwing it somewhere because I was pissed I couldn't get at the CDs, and then, nothing. Gone.
"I wanna paint myself a picture, wanna paint myself in blue, red, black and grey--"
You thought I was going to quote Justin, didn't you. Sometimes it's not about what sounds the best. Sometimes it's what's about playing right now.
~
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