Marc
The old dead fucking the new. The dead raising coffins from the earth. The hillside dead tolling the old rugged bells that clang for the sins of the world. -- from Underworld by Don DeLillo
One. Many thanks for all the birthday wishes. No need to highlight names. Reciprocal congrats on another year survived go out to both Miss Michelle and our very own Zach. I'm with Zach on this whole 24 thing. It just doesn't feel very fresh or exciting. I was standing in some random person's garage at about 11:45pm the night before I turned, and I realized that I had forgotten my birthday was coming up. I casually mentioned to those around me that I was about to turn 24, had a few beers tipped in my direction, and next thing I know I'm officially one year older, though not necessarily one year further along in life. Que sirrah, though, right?
Two. I have not had access to the internet for nearly one whole week, and I opened my mailbox this evening to find nearly seventy new emails, only twenty or so that were relevant. Unbelieveable. Please forgive me for not getting back this evening if you've tried to get in touch with me recently. I'm backed up and very tired. I spent the past three/four days in San Francisco back on the ol' jobhorse again, and it felt fantastic. I had about seven or eight older ladies and gentleman on a post office workfloor watching Strong Bad and Homestar Runner cartoons. It definitely took some of the tensions of a long night off of our shoulders. Give me props.
Three. I sat in first class this afternoon on the flight home, yet I refused all the food and drink that was offered to me, instead opting to sleep during the majority of the flight as I was at work extremely late these past few nights. A very kindly older woman sat next to me and casually mentioned that I should make sure to get some dinner once I got off the plane. I like nice people.
Four. The laptop is sitting on a shoebox as there are no desks in this new apartment of mine, which is hugely fantastic, btw. I have a feeling I'll fall asleep in my full-sized bed this evening trying to burn through the rest of the first half of DeLillo's Underworld, which is already one of my favorite reads of the past few years or so. Maybe I should say since I've read Infinite Jest. Every few pages, the author seems to be able to fit in some kind of comment about life and death and all those things that really matter. Engaging reading.
Up Next: "Hiro's Song" by Ben Folds; "This is the Dream of Evan and Chan" by Dntel; and, "Sorry About That" by the Alkaline Trio.
Tomorrow: Unpacking.
The old dead fucking the new. The dead raising coffins from the earth. The hillside dead tolling the old rugged bells that clang for the sins of the world. -- from Underworld by Don DeLillo
One. Many thanks for all the birthday wishes. No need to highlight names. Reciprocal congrats on another year survived go out to both Miss Michelle and our very own Zach. I'm with Zach on this whole 24 thing. It just doesn't feel very fresh or exciting. I was standing in some random person's garage at about 11:45pm the night before I turned, and I realized that I had forgotten my birthday was coming up. I casually mentioned to those around me that I was about to turn 24, had a few beers tipped in my direction, and next thing I know I'm officially one year older, though not necessarily one year further along in life. Que sirrah, though, right?
Two. I have not had access to the internet for nearly one whole week, and I opened my mailbox this evening to find nearly seventy new emails, only twenty or so that were relevant. Unbelieveable. Please forgive me for not getting back this evening if you've tried to get in touch with me recently. I'm backed up and very tired. I spent the past three/four days in San Francisco back on the ol' jobhorse again, and it felt fantastic. I had about seven or eight older ladies and gentleman on a post office workfloor watching Strong Bad and Homestar Runner cartoons. It definitely took some of the tensions of a long night off of our shoulders. Give me props.
Three. I sat in first class this afternoon on the flight home, yet I refused all the food and drink that was offered to me, instead opting to sleep during the majority of the flight as I was at work extremely late these past few nights. A very kindly older woman sat next to me and casually mentioned that I should make sure to get some dinner once I got off the plane. I like nice people.
Four. The laptop is sitting on a shoebox as there are no desks in this new apartment of mine, which is hugely fantastic, btw. I have a feeling I'll fall asleep in my full-sized bed this evening trying to burn through the rest of the first half of DeLillo's Underworld, which is already one of my favorite reads of the past few years or so. Maybe I should say since I've read Infinite Jest. Every few pages, the author seems to be able to fit in some kind of comment about life and death and all those things that really matter. Engaging reading.
Up Next: "Hiro's Song" by Ben Folds; "This is the Dream of Evan and Chan" by Dntel; and, "Sorry About That" by the Alkaline Trio.
Tomorrow: Unpacking.
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