July 31, 2001.  Tuesday

    Today I went to work.  I hate it there.  Well, I guess i don't really hate it.  I mean, there are countless places that would be worse.  And the pay isn't terrible.  It's not good, but it's not terrible.  I just hate going there and I don't like being there and I don't like looking out the window and seeing the cloudless blue sky and the sun reflecting off the skyscrapers.  I just want to be at the beach, or in the park, reading in the sun or playing frisbee or making out or taking a walk or a nap.  I hate being a grown up.  Which is probably why I'm not very good at it.
    Anyway, my big project at work today was figuring out the songs on my next mix cd, and what order I'll put them in.  And maybe, what I'll name it.  It's a random jumble of songs that I've been working on for many months now.  Since I left the magazine, it's been tough to make cds on my own.  Anyway, I'm trying to get a good mix between up beat, happy songs, and downtrodden sad songs.  I spent most of the afternoon listening to a Leonard Cohen cd, which I'm listening to now, so I had a preference for the sad songs.  I've been listening to Nora's Leonard Cohen cd for a while now, and i really love it.  Just beautiful, soulful, folky music.  Mostly just him singing and playing the guitar.  He's got a pretty bad voice, but it's one of the most endearing bad voices I've ever heard.
    The other big project at work today was putting together a little packet of my clips and writing samples to send out to various papers and magazines.  It was actually sort of tough to get it done at the office.  I didn't want anyone too see what I was doing, that is not working, and I didn't want anyone to see all the photcopies I was making.  It's still sort of amazing to me, in this high tech era, how much cutting and pasting is required when you're putting together your clips.  Lots of photocopying, cutting, taping, then photocopying again.  It's a huge pain in the ass.  I need a personal assistant.

    The Phillies just lost their fourth straight game.  The third in a row that ended on the other team hitting a game-winning home run.  The second in a row by the same pitcher.  But I'm not letting this get to me.  moving on...

    Talked to good old Jen Murphy tonight.  She's in Florida, doing well, in bliss with her boyfriend.  He has the same last name as the street I grew up on, Burkey.  Never heard anyone with that name before.  I hadn't talked to jen for a few weeks, but she'd caught up via the webpage.  It's weird that I've been wanting to call Jen, having felt this distance, yet when we actually spoke she knows everything that's going on with me and out little band of ragtag mistfits.  Jen said in my writing sounds like I'm in love with Nora.  I supose I'd been conscious of that.  Of course, if i actually were in love with her, I wouldn't write such flowery praise of her.
Or... would I...
No no.  Those days are far in the past.

    Anyway, on tap for tomorrow, Luna is playing a free show at the World Trade Center, where I happen to work.  I really need to get out more.  So that'll be fun.  I've been toying with the idea of skipping work, but since I get paid by the hour, it's not really an option.  Or, is it?

    Went down to Great Lakes with Jed for a quick drink. It's a beautiful night out.  It's cool and comfortable, it's a cloudless night and a clear bright moon.  Nights like these make me notice all the churches that are around here.  Skies like this always look great behind a church steeple for some reason. It made me want to be in a public garden or something.  Not somewhere terribly remote, like out in the country or on a mountain, but someplace without a lot of artificial light but interesting architecture.  And, you know, a girlfriend or something would fit nicely in this scenario as well.  As would, say, a million dollars.  I could go on, you know.  but I won't.

By the way, I've been wondering this for a while, but if anyone reading this uses batnet.com, will you let me know who you are?  gracias.

DA&R home
Past Aggravations and Regrets
previous| next
South Pole Home

©2001 Three Match Breeze