You know what you need. And you just might throw all caution to the wind.

December is going to be an expensive month. But I'm not going to let myself freak out about money. I will have active trust and I will be thrifty when I'm in L.A. (including spending my food money at a grocery store and eating in the room rather than eating all meals in takeout and restaurant form).

I'm having lots urges lately to make lists. List of things to buy before my trip. Lists of what to pack. Lists of what to read. Lists of presents to figure out. List of new year's resolutions. I think it's an attempt to have tangible evidence of what I'm doing and getting done. To make my plans seem more real, because right now it still hasn't quite sunk into my brain what I'm doing.

I keep thinking I have something to say or write here, but really, I don't. I'm feeling excessively boring these days. Which is probably why I dressed extra fagalicious today, even though I'm not planning on doing anything but coming home after work and doing reading, but I wanted to boost my mood a bit. I did have a lovely dinner at Nookie's last night with johnny_savage, stingysnoozer, thebrownhornet, Quincy, and limenal.

That pretty much brings us current.

I'll teach you what you want, the things you need to know

I feel like fcking Proust today, on the search for lost time, no matter how ill of a translation from the french that might be, except I'm not really looking for time but trying to give it away in bunches, at least the hours before 5 pm.
In other words, it's been a slow day. Though I've managed to make other uses of time, like sending dozens of e-mails and mailing off some items and even done some actual, y'know, work. It's still creep....creep....creep on the clock.

Though I've found some good reading.


"Those tens of millions have helped make Wal-Mart the single largest seller of pop music in America but you won't find anyone trampled during a sale of rap music with "explicit" lyrics because Wal-Mart doesn't sell those kind of CDs. Rifles, knives, handcuffs, or handgun ammunition? No problem. "

[Well, I don't have any problems with them selling handcuffs -- I mean, where else can my kinky brethren in the rural areas find gear?]


"We made a top 100 albums of the 90s more than ten years late!" aka, What's that saying about hindsight? Ah yes, it's the bearer of bad news.


Literary heights I'm NOT aspiring to -- especially if it involves Sting.