Friday, January 23, 2004
Weird week. Deadline pressure (self-imposed and otherwise), strange schedule, way too much email, and not enough quarters to do laundry until tonight, when everyone else is out and presumably having a good time. I might make a run to the joint across the street later; I haven't decided.
I'm going to make a conscious effort to lay off the Mars updates on this blog. I announced this once before, but I might be serious this time. It's not that there aren't other things to write about. For example, a few days ago someone had wrapped the Chinese warrior statues down the street in blankets and fastened them in place with rope. The next time I saw the statues, the shrouds were gone -- a good thing, as they brought to mind firing squads or body-bags (er, "transfer tubes" -- got to get that straight . . .)
I almost bought a CD tonight but balked after accidentally spilling some of my cinnamon latte on the display rack at Barnes & Noble. I was in the mood for something by The Cure I haven't heard. Or Bowie, who has a new one out (titled "Reality," with a cover influenced by Japanese "manga" comics, which I thought was an inspired touch).
This morning I got a call from my building's manager. Someone had slipped a partially opened envelope from Time-Warner Cable under his door, but it was addressed to me. (Cue ominous music . . .) I was most amused to find out that it's basically a threat letter chastising me for stealing cable service from a neighbor. Neat trick: I don't have a TV, don't even know my neighbors' names, and have no desire for cable, illegal or otherwise. I'd rather drink industrial solvent than watch cable TV.
Art Garfunkel is coming to town to perform with the Kansas City Symphony. Weird fact: I once had a date with a violinist from the Symphony and she gave me a free ticket to a concert. Predictably, the date never amounted to anything and I haven't taken in the Symphony since. Maybe in some alternate universe we hit it off and consequently "I" now might have a good chance of meeting Art after his show.
I'm going to make a conscious effort to lay off the Mars updates on this blog. I announced this once before, but I might be serious this time. It's not that there aren't other things to write about. For example, a few days ago someone had wrapped the Chinese warrior statues down the street in blankets and fastened them in place with rope. The next time I saw the statues, the shrouds were gone -- a good thing, as they brought to mind firing squads or body-bags (er, "transfer tubes" -- got to get that straight . . .)
I almost bought a CD tonight but balked after accidentally spilling some of my cinnamon latte on the display rack at Barnes & Noble. I was in the mood for something by The Cure I haven't heard. Or Bowie, who has a new one out (titled "Reality," with a cover influenced by Japanese "manga" comics, which I thought was an inspired touch).
This morning I got a call from my building's manager. Someone had slipped a partially opened envelope from Time-Warner Cable under his door, but it was addressed to me. (Cue ominous music . . .) I was most amused to find out that it's basically a threat letter chastising me for stealing cable service from a neighbor. Neat trick: I don't have a TV, don't even know my neighbors' names, and have no desire for cable, illegal or otherwise. I'd rather drink industrial solvent than watch cable TV.
Art Garfunkel is coming to town to perform with the Kansas City Symphony. Weird fact: I once had a date with a violinist from the Symphony and she gave me a free ticket to a concert. Predictably, the date never amounted to anything and I haven't taken in the Symphony since. Maybe in some alternate universe we hit it off and consequently "I" now might have a good chance of meeting Art after his show.
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