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contours provocations
journal - 2003-0112 - sun 1800 Friday to Sunday A decidedly unpleasant day. Overcast, cold and windy. A day when you want to sit by the fire and roast chestnuts. This was a week when I had a terrible time going to sleep. Usally, it was after 2 each morning before sleep would come. By Friday evening, I was exhausted. But could I go to sleep? Nope! Crap! So Saturday morning, I stayed in bed until after noon. In the afternoon, I carted clothes off to the laundry, filled the washers, got change, plopped quarters into slots, started machines, poured in deteregent. Got in my little car, drove off, stopped, filled the car with petrol. Then continued to the post office, unlocked the box and got out a magazine solicitation. Back to the laundry. The laundry always has the oddest selection of reading material stacked around. On a table, I found two copies of "Southwest Art," which I've always found interesting. So I was able to lose myself in pages of native American art. Once the washing and drying is finished, you still have to cart everything back. Lug in. Separate, fold, hang. All the while, the felines are burrowing into the towels and clawing at the sheets. After I finished, I rambled off to have a sandwich: an oyster po-boy. Not bad. Although the bread was a tad much. The entrance to the restaurant lacks a foyer, so every opening brought in the chilly night air. On the way home, I stopped off at Barnes & Noble and bought a couple of paperbacks. And got a copy of the special effects mag, which had articles on "Spy Kids," "XXX," and "The Two Towers." It also had a number of promos for movies seeking nominations for the Academy Awards. Ones that say "For Your Consideration." By the time I'd finished my glancing, I realized I'd seen images of Dobby from "Henry Potter," Yoda from "Star Wars," and Gollum from "Lord of the Rings." It struck me how similiar the three are. Small, short, big head, misshaped ears, textured skin, big eyes, and a few strands of hair on the top of the head. And all three are irritating characters. I think Dobby is the worst. Today I bought a copy of "The New York Times" and zipped off to have lunch at the Japanese restaurant. The Nissan appears to be bringing in more Japanese businessmen to the place, they filled about half the restaurant. One party contained ten. The Sunday "Times" is a massive paper, so the best I can do at lunch is to flip through the pages. I'll race through the first section, then root out the "Book Review" and "Arts & Leisure." Today's trivia of note was in an article on James Marsters who plays Spike on "Buffy." The headline sez, "A Vampire with Soul, and Cheekbones." And indeed he is a very striking characters. The surprise was that the article said he was 40! Holy Shit! 40! Never would I have guessed. I need to steal a little of that boy's DNA. PAX!
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