2004-07-29 - 1:50 p.m.
I ate toast, jam, and french fries for lunch.
Lambchop is my favorite lyricist, here: "Your dog gives you the paw..and you pat his head, and you wipe his jaw." It is so beautiful, so without irony. I dislike music with irony, I also dislike the word 'ironic'. 'Irony' is gold to me though, just worth mentioning.
Zac and I are going to try and get a regular pilates schedule going. Healthy or not, it is nice having a person in my life who knows the woes of a harsh old body image. So we goes.
This morning I was informed via phone message, that Sarin and Jeremy have delivered Amelia in their home early, early this morning! This was utter. Just utter everything. Can you imagine? Jeremy birth coaching, mid wife style, poor Sarin in the hallway? This means, that I will maychance see her this weekend. The timing is sublime.
And while Amelia was birthed, I had Getting Fired dream #1. I am at my desk, and Jake Raptosh arrives with a very veiny gray lover. He has this enormous knapsack on, and when Kellie asks him to identify which line had just rung, before the line was even picked up, he put his ear to the wall, listened intently and spouted off '806, obviously', and she askes him to go upstairs, the lover follows. She was so grey that she was probably dead. I knew that I was being replaced, Jake was wearing a knap sack and I knew that meant that he had worked here before, and this was actually a shoe in. Later, I am watching the two sleep on their sides, and their faces melt together and drip like candle wax.
It only took her 1/2 hour to surface