The dream was going fine when it was just me and Brenda kissing. It's when I was hugging Al Pacino on the floor and trying to keep him away from the nuclear fallout that things lost its charm. But it was all my fault; I'm the one who fired the missle launcher in the first place. I told Brenda not to worry, what with her boyfriend being Superman, he was sure to survive. Considering that, in reality, Brenda's ex's behavior towards her has been less-than-stellar, you have to wonder where my self-esteem must be if I'm dreaming that this guy is Superman. But considering this dream also involved me being a chaparone to The Godfather, perhaps I shouldn't be reading into things too far.

Work has been disgusting of late. End-of-year inventory has been murder; I'm still working like mad to get everything done. All this week I've been coming home late and my brain has been on shut-down mode. I worked eight and a half hours on the physical inventory on saturday, finished the report at 11:30pm on Monday, and have worked late every night this week as Matt and I adjust our inventory in the computer system.

Meanwhile The Fringe Festival is this weekend. I think Sunday will be the first day since . . . I'm not even sure when that I'll be able to relax. But I've got two jobs looming for Bright-Matrix tat I have to do, and Available Light.

I ran into Mirjam on Tuesday. Almost literally--I was cutting through Brookdale Park on my way home, looking around and seeing this blonde in jogging clothes stretching
by her car. I was half-way past her when i realized it was Mir, so I parked, walked over, and said hello. This was around 6:15 or so. When I got in my car to drive back home it was 8:40. It was good to catch up, surreal in its own way. There's some uncomfortable parallels between roommates and sisters that I have to leave under Setec Astronomy, and though I'd really like to think moving out of this area will solve (resolve?) things, no matter where you go, there you are.

I don't know what's going on with this blog. Does anyone still read this thing? It's been on hiatus for the last . . . . what, two weeks? Three? I'm considering dropping it. There's been a rash of that lately. "The Life is Never Boring" has shut down. Christine's blog is sporadic. The one bright spot was when I spoke with Mitch two weeks ago he mentioned trying to drive more traffic to his blog. But this place has been quiet and it isn't so much that I haven't had time (though, to be sure, time has been scarce) but that I've had nothing to say.

I could wax poetic about the Rush concerts. Robosapien is begging to have its potential unleashed. Breakfast Club was a blast and so were the three lovely ladies Ryan brought along (Ryan Pearlman: Ther White Boy's Pimp), and have Christine play Let's Make a Deal between the Showgirls boxed set and the Buffy Season Five DVDs was trully classic. But that was almost two weeks ago now and it just doesn't seem right.

There was Traxx last Friday, and before that I spent the evening socalizing with my co-worker Jen, probably the person in the office I was friendliest with, and now she's down in our Hanover office. Traxx was me, Sam, Kate, Lauren, Dave, and Terry, and though the music was good, it was an odd sort of night. Not sure about that, not sure it matters anyway.

The idea is that when I move to south Jersey this blog will come in handy to keep my Northern Friends informed of my "new life" elsewhere. Like I'm moving half a world away or something. (Heh, that'll be interesting: somewhere aong the way my "Home friends--Miller, Noah, Pete--became my "southern friends". But now when I move south of them, will I still be able to call them that?) The point is the blog will have a purpose again. It doesn't have one now. It never did--there never was a focus, that was the pouint. But with no focus the only thing keeping it going is sheer willpower. Which I must have if I'm writing this entry as I'm obviously not ready to shut it down completely, but it also means I lack a direction to take it in.

I haven't kept up with the news.I hear snippets about the Republican Convention on the radio and it sounds like a bad comedy--not the convention itself, the reporting of it. It's like this whole country is just going through the motions.

You know this entry didn't start out that bitter.

I'm tired. I've barebly been eating this week--usually working through lunch, and coming home too late to make a serious effort to cook. I ordered Chinese food for dinner and ordered enough to have lunch tomorrow--if I don't work through it again, though if I do then I know I'll have dinner.

Yeah, definitely bitter.

I've been listening to Rush's live albums for the last few weeks. The show at Homdel made me break out their first three live albums--All the World's a Stage, Exit... Stage Left, and A Show of Hands. I hadn't lsitened to them in forever and a day, though the latest, Rush in Rio has gotten copious play over the last ten months. So to step back as far as 1976 to see how far the band has come.... I mean, this tour opened up with an insrtumental medly of a half dozen old songs, stuff not played in twenty years, and to listen to their '76 live album, when the band was just two years old . . .. they sound so young. Even though it was just when they released 2122, they weren't anywhere as near as polished as they'd become. To hear Geddy constantly sing at such a high register, Alex's guitar work lacking the subtely he'd develop, listening to Neil's drum solo as this raw bombastic thing and nowhere near the polsihed symphony it'd become two decades later....

Ah well. Make no promises, tell no lies. Well, at least the first part.

See you on the other side, Dr. Venkman.....



They may cut your dick in half
and serve it to a pig.
and though it hurts, you'll laugh,
and dance a dickless jig.
But that's the way it goes
and though we're shat upon
though you die,
La Resistance Lives On!

---"La Resistance", South Park