After five years, if you live that long...

Sometimes after an outing I think "that was nice but oh my I'm wicked happy to be home." Other times I go home thinking "why the hell don't I do this more often?" Tonight was definitely the latter. It was a just a mellow gathering for mutual video game appreciation with Damon, freakysparks and gmd15 but it still felt good and satisfying. Pall Mall Menthols and Pizza hut pizza and Vitamin!Water helped too. Now my eyes are drooping while I'm attempting to type and play with my tape decks.

It's time for bed. According to livejournal, the local time is 00 00. That somehow seems appropriate.

If I'm the man that you love the most, you can say 'I do' at least.

A friday top five countdown.

1. I love wedding songs. Seriously. Carpenters' We've Only Just Begun, Laura Nyro's Wedding Bell Blues, even that stupid song by NeXt called Let's Get Married. Politically I'm against state-sanctioning of specific relationships (I'm not just talking about same-sex civil marriage here -- I think any two people who want to set up a household and get all the tax benefits and responsibilities should be able to get civilly married). Even philosophically the idea of saying 'forever' wigs me out. But I still love the songs. I'd be a fabulous wedding planner, even gayer than Jennifer Lopez. Somedays I'm tempted to pursue DJing wedding gigs, even though I know I couldn't handle the reality of the job.

2. The cover of the Chicago Sun-Times informed me that Roger Ebert hated The Life of David Gale. I'm not surprised. When's the last good movie Kevin Spacey made? When's the last non-fake -triumph-of-the-spirit-bullshit movie he's made (K-Pax, Pay It Forward, The Shipping News were all the same shlockfest in different cities)? When will people finally realize what I've known all along which is that Kevin Spacey is an incredibly mediocre actor who's also an ass in real-life? And that he's gayer than Liberace and all the fellow cowards in Hollywood are helping to hide him?? Wake up.

3. I've made two mixtapes in the past month that I listen to constantly. Constantly. On one tape I put two songs back-to-back from 1992. Sometimes I have to fast-forward past them because I can't handle hearing them. But usually when I listen I get a visit from my 1992 self. Today they informed me that I'm a lucky bastard and hit me on the chest. I think I blushed.

4. On the news this morning I learned of another incident in a club in Rhode Island at a concert being put on by.....Great White. Once Bitten, Twice Shy. I needed that morning laugh in the midst of a fcked-up situation.

5. Last night my dreams were long and involved and prominently featured Slim. She played multiple characters, including herself and not one but two lovers of mine. At one point she morphed into a cop who decided to ticket someone in the midst of a very police-hating district, so Damon and I were trying to drag her ass back across town before catching a beatdown from the locals (who we agreed with), though not before going into a Walgreens to buy clearance priced Valentine's Day candy. This particular store seemed to specialize solely on holiday products. But my favorite Slim scene involved her telling me this convoluted plan where we would meet on the corner and when I approached her I'd open a box of cigarettes to offer her a smoke, than I would take one out with my teeth and light one for both of us. I told her that seemed ridiculous, and she replied, "c'mon, you know you've always wanted to do something like that. It's hot!" Later she broke up with me over dinner while I was sitting and trying to come up with a kind way to bring up the subject.

This summary does not do the dream justice, but if I were to write out the entire story, it would be a novella or at least a screenplay. The main feeling I experienced during the whole dream though? "i'm just along for the ride." And I was. And I enjoyed most all of it.

Scheduling Endorphins

Next weekend I will be DJing for a seven hour shift on Friday night at Circuit. I got confirmation from the club yesterday (even though I was already on the flyers and advertisements). On Saturday afternoon I'm thinking about finally getting my new tattoo. And that evening is the long-awaited rescheduling of the playdate with Lady Lynx from a couple weeks ago.

Is it possible to overdose on endorphins? Because frankly, those are three of the my most favorite activities all in a 36 hour period. I don't want to kill myself, yet the possibility of doing it all makes me itchy. In a good way. It's sort of like being turned on except it's all over my body.

I shouldn't have started thinking about this. I can't focus on work now.