apocalypse

After wasting a good ten solid hours on the internet, Kathleen and I went to see 28 Days Later. So scary! And you get to see the lead naked in the first few minutes, but he doesn't look hot until he shaves, and then you're like, 'duh, i should have paid attention to what he looked like naked.' But then I was afraid there would be infected zombies in my room, so I slept over at Kathleen's where her ferocious shitzu kept us safe.

Even so...

Radiohead did quite nicely helping distill my thoughts in that abstract space. I'm now ten pages into a play that could be—well—a masterpiece.

Radiohead

I'm listening to Radiohead and pretending I exist in some abstract space outside of this capitalist dystopia. I wish they were as indie as they pretend to be, but I heard them on the overhead muzak at Urban Outfitters, for crying out loud. In my abstract space of the moment, there is no Urban Outfitters.

Pool

I sent out a couple more resumes this morning, and have since gotten two more responses: apparently my skills are not quite as in demand as they once were. (Oh, if only they knew my skills...) I spent the day in agitation, just waiting to be done with class, so even when it was over, my nervous tics didn't dissipate. I continued snacking compulsively even though I was constantly full. I decided to call Kathleen because something needed to get me out of the apartment.
We were going to swimming, but we were met by bronzed, sculpted Adonises as we realized, 'oh, hey, they're having swim practice right now.' So we got ourselves some sparkling water and sipped it from scotch glasses as we giggled and gossiped about the latest, you know...
And I was humbled by how much self-discovery she'd experienced this summer, and how bourgeois mine seemed in comparison.

Bounce

I'm feeling bouncy today, as though I could conquer the world with just a beach ball and a white, sacchrine smile. I'm drinking lime-flavored sparkling water, which David has quite accurately pointed out is on every college kid's grocery list. It allows me to pretend I'm old and cranky, like I'm drinking scotch at nine in the morning. I have class with the celebrity today. Should be a hoot!

("a hoot," employed ironically to suggest that I am in fact an old man)

And then...

Oh no, this will prove very distracting, I can already tell...