Repeat this.

Blogging about nothing because there is nothing to blog about. Welcome to the sentential hell of Friday, 3 PM. I’m definitely suffering from television-commercial induced Restless Leg Syndrome this afternoon. I can’t stop my legs from jiggling around, willing my brain to decide it’s time to just leave. But this isn’t going to happen. I can’t get anything done. Problems loom on the horizon, but the people I need to rectify these situations are out until Monday. All I can do is wait. I think that I’m currently at the legal limit for slouching in your chair as you type. I’m almost horizontal. All I need is a foot rest. My desktop is awash in cables and wires. I have a satellite receiver pointing at the window, more adapters than Altoids, two different types and brands of MP3 players, micro printers, and both my monitors are now set up to give me a headache because they seem to contradict each other. I ran an audit yesterday afternoon, and it was so long I decided, in fairness to the trees, to use the duplex printer and get it printed on two sides of the page. No one here does that. I’m just a saint. I think this day is going to devolve into an afternoon of trying to beat my personal best at Tetris. Is this movie Ultraviolet going to be any good? I can’t imagine a PG-13 film aimed at young boys who can’t see naked breasts being the most critical film of the year, but I need some distraction from the low-tech reality we still are suffering to live in. I feel so slow and sped up at the same time. Could this be why I keep having awful dreams? No, I think that’s all the American Idol I’ve been watching. I might dig out Star Wars: Bounty Hunter and play it tonight. Maybe pretending I’m Jango Fett will lift my zany sprits. They’re supposed to cut the power tomorrow night at 8 PM. That’s 8 on a Saturday night. For some sort of maintenance. How about Sunday at 3 AM? That would make my life easier. Thankfully the WB isn’t running a new Smallville this week. You know, I don’t think we’ve seen Tom Welling’s ass even once this season. Time for a rethink on the story arc, I believe. I have two books in my bag, and about 12 on my Palm, so I should try and do some reading this weekend. One of the tasks I need to start thinking about is doing something with the bookshelves sagging under the weight of books in my apartment. I should probably start by figuring out the never-read ones so I have something to look forward to. My brain is literally shutting down sector by sector. This must be how Neal Peart gets lyric ideas.

When there's nothing to say, sing.

The Trip Planning Committee has expanded the number of our party to five. That’s right: we’re a resurrected Fox young adult soap from the 90’s. Much drama will ensue, we’ll have some revelations, a lot of laughing and realizing that we really, really need each other, and then there will come the moment when we have to pack it all up and leave, realizing that each moment in life is fleeting and we must take it all for what it is. Next, look for me in a horror movie franchise! Ok, geek time. For those so disinclined, be blind. I awoke on Saturday at about 6:30 am, and started watching some Battlestar Galactica episodes, eight of them. This still allowed us to get the day going before noon, so win-win. A.A. was coming down to visit, which was fun, but the whole day had been so draining (there was some actual going out that did happen) and so much drinking that we never made it outside that night. No big loss, though we also didn’t get around to watching “Deep Throat,” the Linda Lovelace classic UglyAgnes won during Sex Toy Bingo last week. There’s always tomorrow. I feel like I missed an opportunity to buy a lot of 60’s pulp sci-fi while we were in North Addams as there was a good used bookstore tucked away out there, but I didn’t feel like shopping. Now I’m reviewing a list of reviews and finding a few good books I’d like to read. I should probably find a library that’s falling apart with a good paperback selection of books from the mid-60’s through the early 80’s, which is the beset period of time to find a decent pulp fiction book with a good piece of cover art. I feel like the quality of the artwork is directly correlated to my eventual enjoyment of the book. I’m not ready for what the week will bring, so I’m going to hide behind the veil of superiority that protects me from the thin nerve sheath of reality. The wolves of daring, the paucity of decency, and the froth of a bad coffee drinks: I feel like sleeping.

The long walk that leads to a slow sleep.

After a four day weekend I’m extremely tired. Mostly because I have to be sitting here at work, all the while wondering what the next weekend will bring. We made it to Mass MOCA where I took a number of pictures, but haven’t gotten around to uploading, so they sit sadly on my desktop at home. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get it together. I wrote two demo tracks yesterday. UglyAgnes even helped provide me with a distinctive vocal sample that I promptly morphed into something else. It’s my art after all. She did say the second one sounded like music for a car commercial. Who knows, maybe I’ll get a free SUV. I put up samples on my music page. Anyway, it was good to get back to music editing; I forget how engrossing such a task can be, even if my setup is less than comfortable and induces spasms in my lower back. It looks like the snow will melt away by the middle of the week. Perhaps we’ll be able to walk barefoot again, as I love to do. I also love to chew some barley. And talk to strangers.