pleasant valley sunday
02.15.04 @ 10:36 p.m.
I am feeling giddily good natured toward the world. I was thinking of sending someone something (sometimes I enjoy being vague whether it's necessary or not), but am having second thoughts. Frankly, I'm wondering at myself. I bought something today and it's out of character for me to be blithely issuing little gifts. I hate random gifts, I think because they make me paranoid that something is expected of me, and yet there are other times when I'm feeling... expansive, social, and magnanimous and want to dispense tiny silly gifts to the whole world.
Something, in other words, has kicked my sense of whimsy into drive. It's a little puzzling, but for now I'm going to run with it.
In a complete and utter reversal of mood, I may well have seen someone die today, and that's a little freaky. Maybe more than a little. Dog show people are not exactly prime examples of humanity. Most of the German Shepherd people I've known are chainsmokers with bad taste. Good taste and dog shows are far from synonymous, as evidenced by the parade of big hair and floral print suits displayed by the women I watched at the Albany dog show this morning. Going to a dog show in jeans, chucks, and a black rock and roll t-shirt made me feel insanely hip. Never mind that there was almost no one else there my age. But anyway, toward the end of the Shepherd class (Billy took second in open, which really meant there was no reason to stay long) I made a circuit of the exhibit hall. Past the same vendors I see every year and at every local show, around to the tackily displayed trophies (Mardi Gras theme... lovely silver bowls and pitchers covered with a liberal layer of metallic confetti and strings of beads. Oh, and the Best In Show trophy had a hideous feathered mask sticking out of it), and bam, there are paramedics in front of me. I guess it's commendable that people weren't crowded around or making a fuss. This guy was old and while not hugely fat, he had quite the gut on him. This is not unusual for dog people. This was a guy that screamed "breeder," but definately not "owner/handler." Anyway, as I passed they were doing chest compressions and at first I only thought, "Oh my." But as I skirted the scene I saw his face was completely purple and that's what really unnerved me for at least several minutes, anyway.
Afterwards, we came back to Eugene. I showed Grandma our house and Dad unloaded the copious and unnecessary groceries he'd bought for me and had been stockpiling in the house in Portland. I messed about a little, filling out my change of major form (insert ominous music) and trying to mentally prepare myself for maybe an advising appointment tomorrow. I have spent two and a half years dodging advisors. Damn them for catching up to me now. Then I slept, slept like the dead for a good three or four hours. This was too long to have slept, especially since I hadn't eaten, and the rest of the day has been a reflection of this.
I also wrote a short piece for the Psychedelic Phoenix, a YahooGroup my friend Jessica runs, about how Bob Dylan isn't THAT overrated, whic is kind of dimly funny if one knows how much time I've spent resisting Dylan.
I'm so behind on the Kesey reading it's not even funny, but I'm finally starting to get into it. I feel bad for Hank, who's just a bit socially inept and just really rough around the edges, but Leeland... he alternately annoys me with his pedantry and inspires pity because he's just so fucked up that something inside him has been poisoned. Hmm. I'm starting to get the feeling that Kesey thinks that the West, Oregon life, is good and pure if hard and simple compared to the insidious, slow poison of the East.
Lastly, I'm a-thinkin' this bag will be mine.
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
