Tuesday. December 18, 2001

.

sushi

"How poor are they that have not patience!
What wound did ever heal but by degrees."

Shakespeare, Othello

I feel like sleeping in but I don't. And then I am, unreasonably, happy. I bandage my hand but it looks almost healed, almost like a nothing scratch.

I can't quite get out of the house with everything. I go out in short sleeves, back for a sweater, back for coffee I put down somewhere.

At work, I give my admin her Christmas present. I'm very happy with myself because I think it's cool. She likes it, too.

I work on stuff. Even the most hated stuff. I have fantasies that my silly staff job means something.

The weather is nice. SuRu and I walk across to Kyoto II and meet FFP. We have sushi and gyoza and FFP and I have miso soup and SuRu has vegetable tempura and FFP has a salmon happy meal (well, a box). Afterward we go over to Deb's Liqours to see if they have anything that was allocated to them in the good stuff category. SuRu and I look at gift sets and FFP gets a 1997 Silver Oak and some other stuff.

SuRu and I start back and then go to a toy store closing out across the street. I pick up some baby gifts for the future and a couple of things for Jack.

I return to work for a meeting on my least favorite topic. Still, I feel great.

I stop by the parents after work. I return some refrigerator dishes and take some pictures of them because Mom wants me to do it. She decides she should get a digital camera. She has a new short haircut. I tell her she looks younger.

SuRu, FFP and I go to Ruby's Barbecue because SuRu wants meat and we have a gift certificate. Afterward we wander around Toy Joy. At home we watch snippets of Patton and then other stuff. I struggle over the crossword.

Someone at the salon said my monologue reminded them of Spaulding Gray. (Or they mentioned him in some context. Maybe I was hoping they compared me to him. I know one guy offered acting lessons and another person offered criticism on eye contact. So, OK, maybe they didn't mention old Spaulding as in 'yeah, you could make a living talking about your nothing life you are so clever.') Anyway, I started dreaming of combining my interest in doing something with digital video and the idea of Spaulding Gray. I could set up the tripod and tape myself in a feature entitled Myself as a Consumer using props of stuff and photos of stuff. (Yes, I know. I always propose these little creative projects and never do them. Which is probably a good thing.)

I've noticed some new and disturbing trends in the junk email I'm receiving.

• Pornographic offers that describe increasingly more disgusting sexual acts as I refuse to respond to them. (Responding to 'remove' yourself is supposed to just tell them it's a real e-mail address.) The subject and alleged sender are both quite explicit.
• Unsolicted advertisements are from senders with first names only or common first names and a last initial. The idea being that if you know, say, a Linda B, you might just look at it thinking it's from them.
• An attempt was made to get me to respond to an e-mail by trumping up an alleged blank e-mail from me and having a sender say 'do you have a virus or did you send me this blank e-mail on purpose and do I KNOW you?' Very clever. Except I allegedly sent this while I was on the road to Houston yesterday.
• My ISP doesn't seem to stop much of this abusive mail as they used to do. They were bought out by a company primarily interested in hosting WEB sites for companies.

JUST TYPING
Euphoria.
Depression.
Each a wash of chemical
across the brain tissue.
Or not.