(no subject)

I dreamed last night about an apartment with two floors inside, a staircase up to a landing with a bay window and a view of the oddly sloped canyon below. It was huge, with so many bedrooms. There was an enormous Jewish wedding happening at another apartment somewhere nearby. I never could tell if it was all one building, or a hive or just like the apartment complexes I'm used to seeing. I had a bright red dog that followed me everywhere and was very small.

Does it have to be so early and strange?

I write here every day out of a sense of duty, in that I swore I would do so for at least a year. I've never kept any journal so long as I have kept this one and I think it has to do with this medium being so multifunctional.

(no subject)

I don't know why, but today felt three times as long as it should be.

Work drives me mad, because of the things I hear my coworkers say. I sit next to an affable but stupid man. He's the modern, clean equivalent of the village idiot. While he has admirable and nice qualities, the man is dumb as a post. He frequently misuses words like attrition, and says incredibly moronic things. Today he went on about how great it would be to go to Saudi Arabia and throw ham on mosques.

The guy who sits on the other side of The Village Idiot is superbly arrogant, hard core right wing, and more than a little mysoginist. When he isn't discussing football with the Idiot, they're talking gleefully about the war in Iraq, killing Muslims and other such charming topics.

Is it any wonder why every morning my stomach knots and I want to throw up before I leave the house?

I'm vaguely weirded out by the commercials for The Patriot to be shown on September 12th. The only enjoyable aspect of that film is Jason Isaacs.

(no subject)

None of the books I want to read have been written.
I need a good fantasy novel, or a good vampire novel, or even just those creepy weird Tanith Lee books I used to have.

There's a fourteen hour Law & Order marathon showing on Labor Day. Rock on.