MIA style. Not Miami -- Missing In Action

So Nimda virus has messed up the ISP in NYO, which means internet access is sporadic at work, and only certain sites, and yahoo and livejournal are not among the sites that work. Hrmph. So I've been MIA for too long. And I only have about 13 minutes now because I"m at the public library.

Here's the short version, including reminders of things to talk about later.

Friday. Went to Second City. Loved it. I love sketch comedy.
Saturday. Cleaned up a lot of the apartment. Went grocery store and hardware store with MelRo. Came home and did some cleanup, made first mixtape, watched MadTV (I love sketch comedy), and went to bed.
Sunday. Slept in more than should have. Did more cleaning. Around noon, folks for Damon's shindig started trickling in. The last folks left aroun 6:30 pm. Damon stayed longer and we chatted. Then he left and I made a couple phone calls. Had talk with MelRo. Had brief fight with MelRo. Had quasi-resolution and overall feel good stuff with MelRo. Went to bed realizing that everything I thought I wanted and needed is different. Not necessarily polar opposite or anything, but different. Will write about this later.
Monday. Worked from 8:30 am until 7 pm on brief. Only had a 30 minute break for lunch. Went home thoroughly exhausted.
Tuesday. Went to work -- too long break to see SHANA who was in town briefly on her way home to Reno. I love her so much. Must visit her in Bay Area soon. Worked in the afternoon, went home and made soul food for dinner (needed some 'home' for some reason). Finished mixtape for Br___ and started second mixtape for Tara. Went to bed.

Now for some random commentary on things.
- Fall is here. It's cold and I"m wearing a jacket and smoking more.
- Mr. Mr. (from my office) is quitting!!! Seems to be some general buzz in the office as well, probably surrounding his departure, but I"m paranoid so I fear I"m going to get fired. Why? I dont' know. WAit I do. It's because I'm stupid in my paranoia.
- I've been more productive at work lately and liking it. What's that about? I hope this lasts awhile. Like 6 months.
- RILEY and ALEX. Please try to reach me by phone instead of e-mail. I would love to hang out this weekend. Sorry I didn't get in touch last weekend. (Alex, I"m so glad you're home safe, and I love the pics! Are you going to post the more risque ones????)
- That's all for now and I"m almost out of time. Hope all is well in other folks -- is it weird to say I miss my LJ friends and community? Well, I do. Why won't the internet work at work????

Peace.

wouldn't you know....

I leave the library, get back into the office, and the internet is back up!! Yippee.

But now I must eat. More later. And MUCH more LJ to read....

(no subject)

Dear diary,
Yesterday I succesfully used the word "cuckold" in a sentence.
Today I took my medication.
Tomorrow....could be anything.

Of course she would fall in love with you. Why wouldn't she? It was nothing for me either.

What do you mean to me?

Words are easy when playing the part of a hopeless romantic. And it's easier for me to describe a dynamic that I don't currently have but hope to achieve.
But then I actually have something. "Something" sounds so small and insignificant. But this something occupies over half of my thoughts. Half of my feelings. My entire night of sleeping. It's not insignificant.
I just to know what it is. Exactly.
But it affects me deeply. It pulls me in unexpected directions, but also anchors me. A starting point. A focal point?

You say you like how my skin smells when I'm sleeping.
How can I compete with that?

I don't say that your skin feels like how I imagine skin to feel. You know how you imagine something to feel a certain way, then the experience is not as good as you projected? I'm amazed every time I touch you -- just as I dreamed. Perhaps better.

I used to imagine weight pressing on my chest -- a physical symptom of a mental dysfunction. Is that why I enjoy you pressed into my chest, your body on top of mine? It's real. It's significant. It pushes the ghost-forces away.
I'm not Goody Proctor in Salem, being sentenced to death by crushing. (Perhaps my high school english class is all to blame.)

Any twisted desire for anger or hurt or revenge must be overcome. The feeling may be there, but I don't want to be that person.

You're my gentleness. Not to be mistaken for coddling or mothering or even taking care of (necessarily).

I'm rattling my shell, scraping my claws against myself, in a thoughtful, thumb-twiddling manner.

And push my arm through the small gap between your neck and the mattress.

call me now for your free reading.

I almost forgot! I got a gig doing tarot readings at the benefit event for the Chicago Cultural Center. and get this -- I'm getting paid $100/hr! and I'll be there for about 4 hours. Damn!

I need to get my own 1-900 number for real.

anyway, it's a masquerade ball at the end of October. I might also volunteer at the ACLU benefit the first weekend in October, and plus there's the Bon Foster dinner in mid-October. what does all this mean? playboy needs a suit, for real. which means he needs his security deposit check, for real.