August  9, 2000.  Wednesday fuck fuck shit shit fuck shit fuck

 
 

    I'm drawing a blank. I'm a little upset over a coupla things, but in general, i suppose things are as well as one could expect.  I received an email from someone at Shift magazine, who I had emailed months ago, asking if I was interested in an internship.  This is a magazine that i'd actually be very interested in working at. Some call it a Wired rip-off, but it doesn't have quite the same hipster pretenses.  it's a good combo of popular and online culture.  I suppose there's still a difference. Anyway, I'd love to work for them, so I was glad that she old Corinna remembered me writing her.  Of course, the reason I couldn't apply for the internship back in May was because Shift is a Canadian magazine, and, while having a small office here in NY, is for the most part based out of Toronto.  So while I want to work for them, and I suppose I could at least get an interview with them, I really don't want to relocate to Toronto just yet.  Figures...
    Then again, now it's got me thinking. Why don't I want to relocate to Toronto?  It's a nice enough city.  it's pretty clean, warm in the summer, and it's got an NBA team and baseball team.  If I can get my foot in the door at some magazine, would it be so crazy to up and move?  when you really think about it, I guess not.
    Then again, it's not like i could get some fabulous job there or anything.  It's is just an internship after all.  But still something to ponder.  If I could get a real legitimate job at some magazine, and if it were in DC or Charlotte or something, I really wonder if I would go.  I wouldn't mind getting out of New York in a year or so I think.  But I know there's several things keeping me here, one of which at least goes by the name Rodzilla.
    So that leads to the next question.  Which I probably know the answer to and don't really need to think out loud about. Or type, for that matter.
    But another question: Does verbalizing a thought make the thought worse?  Is it better if you don't speak it and just think it, or does the fact that you have the thought equally damning?

    This morning, I got up way earlier than I usually do, because Rodzilla wants to start getting out of bed earlier, so she suggested we meet for coffee in the morning before I go to work.  So I met I got to Gray Dog's coffee on Carmine st. at the scheduled time of 8:20.  First time I've been on time for anything in a long time.  I told Rodzilla last night that I wouldn't be surprised if for one reason or another, she didn't show. Well, I got the call at 8:40, standing outside in the rain, that she just woke up.  Natch.  The culprit? The alarm, set to 7:30, Post Meridian.  So that was a bust.  But at least I was early to work for the first time ever.  I wasn't even really upset with Rodzilla, even though I was standing in the rain like a chump. But i've been kind of groggy all day, and I really could've used that extra sleep, especially since I've had this cold brewing for a few days.  Which begs the question, what am I doing up right now?
Typing this, stupid.

Oh yeah, on the train today, there was a woman next to me who clearly used to be a man.  S/he had surgically augemented breasts,  which i got a pretty good look at since s/he was wearing a low cut, short dress of some sort, and some high heels. But you could tell s/he was of masculine origin.  Mostly, it was obvious s/he had man-hands.  And the five o'clock shadow wasn't doing much to complement the weird breasts either.  This was actually the first one of these I've seen since being in New York. At least, one that was- deliberately or otherwise- doing such a poor job of hiding the switch. I mean, at the very least, s/he coulda shaved.  And had better hair. It looked like a frumpy wig.  and those nails! Omigawd... I was like, no way,  totally hid!
 

lastly, juding by my web stats, someone- or...something-- is slowly working his or her way through my entire journal archive.  I wonder how many people have actually done that. I can think of maybe two or three. Possibly four.  So that was kind of cool.  Unless it's the FBI or CIA or something.  Well, I guess that'd also be pretty cool.
 

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