everybody's got something to hide, except for me and my monkey
08.13.04 @ 6:09 p.m.
[FROM YESTERDAY]
I get all in idle musing mode at work, probably because my job basically requires me to engage my brain not at all. It's better if I don't think, in fact, because then I'd just be in a constant state of fury at Boss John (instead of shutting the mental blast doors every time he speaks) or annoyance with Boss Gary. But I'm mostly pretty easy going about them.
I spent most of the day (and half of yesterday) up on the roof of the school, sweeping debris out of corners and drainpipes, which is nice because it's very isolated work. No one is ever going to walk in on you in a moment of abstraction. There's often a nice little breeze. There's also a little room full of duct work that's always nice and cool and has that cozy feeling that little utilitarian rooms always seem to have to me. It seemed like a particularly nice hidey hole, except that you can't close the roof hatch after you (lest you get locked on the roof), so you'd be pretty damn easy to find. I thought about writing a list of secret yet honest feelings and thoughts I have, then debated on whether or not it would have to be a locked entry. I'm feeling now like I shouldn't do it. They're not feelings about anyone, really, just things I'm mildly embarassed about because the things I mentally listed up on the roof reveal an awful lot about things I try to be nonchalant about. If I were bolder... well, if I were bolder, a lot of things wouldn't be a problem, or at least the problem I insist on making things.
I'm just being confusing. Mostly I miss having someone like the Who Boy to fixate on (or even classmates like Conor or Joe, though I mostly just thought Conor was cool, not attractive. Because he kind of isn't attractive. Nor the physiological type I normally go all giddy over,) especially since going to see Isle of Wight, which just injected him straight back into my brain. This isn't just because IoW is the DVD he brought to class to showcase "Young Man Blues," but also because the song "I Don't Even Know Myself" is performed, and that always makes me think of the time where I told Ena all about running into him in the library then absent mindedly sang along with that song, which contains the following lyrics:
Do you remember me?
I don't remember you.
Do you still love me?
You know, I think you do.
Of course, it's also just a great song. It also makes me think of Prof. Saunders' enthusiasm over it, saying how he made everyone that came over to his house watch that song, with Keith losing a stick and nonchalantly grabbing a replacement. It wasn't what I imagined when he told me about it.
I was also moping a bit over the past. You do that when you suddenly remember that the laughingstock of your grade level was only just forstalled from asking you to the prom by your good friend. Not that I didn't have a pretty good time as part of Andrew's little harem. I'm glad I went. Besides, now I have a huge, poofy formal dress. Too formal for my sister's wedding, alas. And I think it probably isn't in good taste to wear black to a wedding, unless it is a seriously wonderful semiformal dress. I still have to shop. No one has time for me. Amy is sick, which is putting off Alan Rickman Fest. Martha is caught up in the whirlwind of her sister's wedding. Jodi is in Australia, Ena is on her way to Tennessee. I got nobody.
(Mope mope, sigh sigh. I need to get over this wistful/depressive streak.)
The good news is that I'm going to a political rally tomorrow. John Kerry, featuring Jon Bon Jovi and Leonardo Di Caprio. And I'll be getting a free t-shirt.
[TODAY]
Tired from the rally and the light heatstroke I probably got there. Fun. Heat. Campaign signs. A new t-shirt. I think I need a nap.
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
