got a decent amount of sleep, read the journal. just the fact that anyone knew what the hell I meant by that last post "too hectic, too hectic" made me smile to the point of face breakage.
it's broken now.
all dangly bits and torn and twisted plastic... bad juju man.
But then I HAD to go put in an op ivy cd and I'm just too groovin now to even... seperate myself from it.
I realized last night that I really need to dance. It's been too long. Well, the hoochie man dance the other night, but something a lil less.. uh .. full contact I mean.
I've also decided that I'm gonna watch tv today. I wanna see what the hell everyone is always talking about. I've been balled out for the LAST TIME over my lack of simpsons knowledge so uh .. I'll try to remember that it's on. Really.
Watch, It'll end up being the ONE episode I've already seen every single time someone makes me sit down and watch.
The Mr. Sparkle episode.
"Mr. Sparkera Velly dislespectfur to dirt!"
and the critic. I miss the critic. I LOVED THE CRITIC, dammit.
did I mention that this coffee is good?
"she, she, she's a bombshell...."
brain is all over the place so far today.
Which is cool. At least, it's better than being in the same stagnantion and miasma that I've been stuck in. Think I'll read fear and loathing in las vegas. I have some stuff to write too.
Last night about 3 am I flipped on the tv to the pbs channel and watched a thing about the installation of chihuly's glass at his 'home' museum where they kept some permanent pieces and was just tripped the fuck out because, well, I've been to that tour. It was at the virginia beach fine arts center and I dragged jason with me and I was just so in love with it all I wanted to freakin LIVE THERE, man. gorgeous and stunning in the craft and colors and scope. The man is to glass blowing what Cristo is to wrapping buildings in pink satin bunting.
Okay, dammit, I meant that as a compliment. it's the SIZE of chihuly's pieces and their incredible visual textures. No other glass blower does what he does even CLOSE to as well as he does it. I remember laying down under one of the installations.. a 15 foot walkway with the pieces above a transparent ceiling lit from above. The exhibit was mostly empty but Jason was mortified.
He didn't really talk to me for a couple hours after that.
I actually miss him every now and again because he had this really super dry humor I dug but more or less... I'm glad for his absense.
I'm just ramblin on and on. deal.
That pic up there. That's Charlie. Charlie is 87. He used to work with me at the retail store of doom and got fired for muttering 'ah, I'm sick of this shit' under his breath when told he had to sweep the sidewalk. His wife has cancer, and he's living in abject poverty. 87 years old and he's depending on a job as a door greeter (near the end there when they were cutting everyone's hours because the chain is going out of business anyway, he was only getting *maybe* 16 hours a week and it was usually more like 8 or 12.) and military retirement to stay alive.
We took up a collection.
Po people can really scrape it up when they need to.
Took us over a month but this morning we presented him with a lil over $600 and cards and flowers photos that we all had of him (he was everyone's favorite) and even though he kept vacillating between calling me Holly and Hope, I was just so glad to be there.
I wuv my charlie.