Listening: "Third Eye," Tool
"Optimistic," Radiohead
"Edge of the Earth" 30 Seconds to Mars
"Milk IT," Nirvana
"One Day" Bjork
"Silverfuck" Smashing Pumpkins
"Closer," NIN
"The Mark has Been Made," NIN
"I'm Dying," VAST
"The Great Collapse" NIN
"I think I'm Paranoid," Garbage
"Swan Swan H" REM
"Celebrity Skin," Hole
"Petals" Hole
"Microphone Fiend," Rage against the Machine
"Honey," Tori Amos
"Ziggy Stardust," David Bowie
"21st Century Digital Boy," Bad Religion
"Silcon World," Eiffel 65
Mentally Replaying: "wednesday" Tori Amos
I'd rather be: not distracted
Desiring: clarity
Enjoying:
"Today young men on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condenced to a slow vibration, that we are all one conciousness experiencing itself subjectively, there's no such thing as death, life only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves. Here's Tom with the weather."
--"Third Eye"

This weekend was interesting. Mostly it was all about Saturday, but the whole thing was pretty nice.

Friday night I ran mage and wrapped up a specific part that had been bugging me. It wasn't as neat as it could have been, but it had been kind of sloppy from the get-go, so I'm glad it's over.

We actually had an afters up at the IHOP, which was very nice. I had gotten into the habit of skipping since I was usually tired after Friday games but this time I was really hungry. Molasses offered to pay for dinner, which was nice cause I was down to about fifteen cents. (and about $9 in the bank).

It was nice to hang out and shoot the shit with people. But on the way home (a whole half-mile) I was nodding off.

Saturday morning I lazed around in bed instead of doing chores, after my Molasses had headed off to his HRD class. I grabbed a few things I would want later, including tickets and Space Dog's books. The only straightening I had time to do was to take out the trash. I didn't get any writing done. But SBC did call, and I totally thought I shouldn't pick up, but I did and ended up cheerfully encouraging the operator to turn off my service. *sigh*

Being poor sucks.

I headed off to Molasses' place with a quick stop at Togo's for our lunch. I killed time on his computer and so was engrossed in some journal stuff when he arrived and changed and ate his sandwich. I really should have turned off the computer as soon as he got in but I thought I had enough time.

At about one thirty we headed out. We had a rendezvous at two that I refused to explain. My options were to head north on the 605, east on the 91 and exit at Harbor, head south to Katella. But the 91 was frequently slow headed east into OC, so I decided just to take the 22 east. It meant a lot of surface driving on Harbor, but I figured we'd survive.

Ha,ha very funny, universe. The 22 was totally sluggish and in some places stopped, for no particular reason. I ended up exiting one stop before Harbor and hitting Every Single Fucking Red Light All the Way.

The only thing that kept me from tearing my hair out was an intriguing conversation that started out being about Mage, and mostly stayed about mage - at least for Molasses. For me, I'm far more interested in the philosophy and social paradigms of universal concensus and the idea of breaking with it and affecting your will on the universe. I pretty much wish there was magic. Of course the heard part is explaining what I'm thinking without referring to Neitsche, Kant, Keirkegaarde, Octavio Paz or Sarte. But then I get bogged down in analogy. People like to associate large-scale events with small-scale analogies - Invading Iraq is like police storming a house to look for illegal weapons.

In mage determining what is paradoxical is occasionally tough and vague and it's hard to come to a happy medium when players want as little as possible and storytellers want to maintain some balance without discouraging the players too much. Players are usually swayed by the understanding that "if a normal person saw this, that normal person would see X and determing that it's impossible. Therefore your action of X is inherently paradoxical."

But sometimes that oversimplifies things and makes players think all that they have to do is make something that cannot be physically percieved by "normals" and then it will be coincidental - that is, not paradoxical. Then I have to explain my high-falutin' ideas that have to do with the universe "understanding" that something is amiss. *sigh* It ain't easy.

We pulled into the parking lot for Downtown Disney at five minutes after. I scoured my backseat for the envelope with the tickets and we headed up quickly. We ran through the line. I was terrified that he'd glean what was playing but since there had been an anouncement for another show with these people on the radio I think it was a natural leap to assume we were headed to one of their shows. The line outside the House of Blues was very short as it was already after two and there were many kids. I was a little surprised and then immediately thought I shouldn't be.

Then we got to the security dude and realized I had grabbed the envelope that once had Tori tickets and realized that it wasn't going to help me get into this concert. So we hopped over the chains and quick-stepped on over to my car. I was breathing so hard Molasses asked if I was ok. Stupid stamina. I found the right envelope, double checked it and headed back.

It was nearly 2:30 at this point. I accepted we had missed a huge chunk of the show and resigned myself to hoping Molasses had fun.

He had, of course, guessed that it was a They Might be Giants concert since we knew they were in the area. He insisted that he didn't know they were doing a show at the Disney HOB. We raced in and headed straight for the bathroom and tried to cool down. He was waiting for me outside, bouncing and giddy, but I couldn't place the song, though it may have been "It's not my Birthday."

It was very nice to get to see them. I think this our fourth time seeing them, third at a House of Blues. (Second time in a row that it's specifically the Anaheim HOB.) I think John and John really like it, especially Linnel since he can bring his wife and kids and spend time with them at the Magic Kingdom. Flansburgh was his usual caffinated, goofy self and even Dan (the guitarist, I don't remember his last name) was very active. I like their opening stuff so I was sad I missed it. In the middle and toward the end they get weird and experimental and I don't get a chance to warm up to all the goofiness along with everyone else. Also I suspect I missed "Ana Ng" and "Boss of Me" because I was dragging ass. Apparently they didn't do "Particle Man" at all. I think this show was actually shorter than most so they had to make sure to hit as much as possible to please as many people as possible. Considering they did "James K. Polk" and "Drink!" (from Mink Car) and a couple tunes from NO! I think they did a nice, well-rounded job. Considering they've been recording for about as long as I've been alive I value their efforts. }:> But I would have liked to hear "Nightgown of the Sullen Moon."

Outside the guitarist Dan (of the band of Dans) was signing stuff and was quite friendly. He signed our tickets and shook our hands and was very gracious when I complimented the show. He was apologetic for being so rushed since they had an hour for doing what they liked and then had to regroup at "the airport." We think he meant John Wayne, but then he could have just been dodging the mad, slavering stalker-fans. I dunno.

Anyway it was very warm and sunshiny out and we decided to wander around Downtown Disney for a bit before heading out. We got "granitas" (which are called raspadas in Guadalajara, only they have less juice than granitas) and wandered into the Grand California Lodge, or whatever it is that they call the humongous hotel that sits between the California Adventure and DD. It's really gorgeous inside, strong "rustic" flavoring, with a really high ceiling in the main lobby, a deep set fireplace with different-sized rocking chairs set close to the hearth. All of the decor was design with an art-deco flair which I really like, although all of the colors were based on natural greens and browns. All told, I really admired it.

We headed back and considered evening options. Molasses had wanted to game but I had already called up Space Dog on Friday to see what he was up to. Molasses couldn't dig up any information on a game so his back up was to call the Ice Cream Assassin and go do some "coding." hmph.

So I headed up to Hollyweird and hung out with Space Dog. When I got there he had 12 Angry Men on rotation. I had never seen it and though I was hungry I couldn't get myself to budge. We were both quickly proclaiming our love for the acting and directing as well as the writing and setting.

We wandered out in search of food and were still waxing positive about the movie. It led to a neat discussion of the radical shift in the last 50-ish years from expressionistic to impressionistic acting. (We didn't talk about the same thing in connection to non-performing arts, which I think has gone in the opposite direction. We're both more into performing arts, specifically theatrical arts.) Anyway I like exploring the shifts between the influence of art on life and life on art. I think the films that have heavily infected the rest of the world have been themselves influenced by the style and culture of this region. As early as the 1930s Southern California has been noted for its "cool" which has less to do with a sense of fashion and desirability and more to do with a sort of grace under fire and general calm and laid back quality with which we operate.

The rest of the evening was spent on abortive missions to find a mainstream movie theatre that was theoretically showing turn-of-the-century (as in late 19th to early 20th) pornos, check out a local strip club or topless bar (we weren't sure what exactly it consisted off since the signs only said "NUDE" and "beautiful girls" and nothing else), but we still don't know because when we went by, at approximately 11pm it was totally shut down. No hours of operation were listed. At 11pm on a Saturday night. IT was closed. at 11pm. On a Saturday night. I mean, WTF??

We wandered on down to the Pleasure Chest. I swear you can stand on the roof of Space Dog's apartment building and literally throw a rock and hit the Pleasure Chest.

I admired the leather corsets and found my favorite card to date. It says "Bitch, Whore, Slut, Skank, Dyke" on the outside, on the inside it says "Be all that you can be." I practically bounced with glee when Space Dog bought it for me.

Space Dog has the best office/library ever. I swear when I grow up I want on just like it. One whole wall is lined with bookshelves that are completely full with books and it would go wall to wall except there is a door at one end. The books that would go there if the door wasn't there are directly opposite the door in a full-size book shelf. There's a massive desk, a day-bed/couch thingie and a full-height file drawer thing.

I got distracted from visiting (as often happens when I wander into the library) and found a copy of Tom Stoppard's Travesties. I've vaguely heard of it before but never made the effort to track it down, which in and of itself is a travesty. Stoppard is my favorite playwrite, and probably my favorite writer who hasn't also either written for young adults or written graphic novels. I wandered out to the living room where Space Dog was reading a comic boo... er, graphic novel and read about the first ten pages, mumbling and giggling to myself.

I love the things Stoppard does with language. It's the sort of maddening glee that comes with hating the unnecessary complications of English but still being amused since we don't know of any other language that does things in such a silly way. Plus it has Lenin, Tristan Tzara and James Joyce and a stuffy Englishman in a minor officiating role but is actually the narator of the thing, all in the same story. What's not to love?

I guess I like my fiction to either poke at everyday "real" things or refer back upon itself in mad, cascading cycles. I loouuuurrrve meta-fiction, and so I have a special spot in my heart for the absurd. And failing that I like simple stories that have elements of the mythic, or simply traditional, in them. Of course I'm also good with allegories that poke at contemporary social issues. Though I'm not crazy about comedy of manners-type plays, but I do love tales with a socio-political nature.

We hung out till about one-ish and then we were both starting to nod off. So I headed on back to the LBC and turned in a little later than two. Molasses showed up around 230am. hmph. coding. Right.

Sunday was much more um... lethargic. We didn't have any plans and I didn't really try to make any, hoping Molasses would pick up the slack. He didn't seem to notice any slack and this led to a really lazy day for me. We got up around eleven, fooled around, showered and headed out for breakfast. We walked and it was another bright, shiny day. Frickin finally. A couple of weeks ago it was dark and more or less miserable. The temps still aren't as high as they ought to be, but at least the sun is around.

when we got back I lounged around on the bed and soon passed out from the effort of digestion. He booted up the computer and played some computer game... I mostly dozed and just didn't make any effort to do anything productive. I didn't realize I was so tired and wasted about fourish hours napping. Molasses at least did some laundry.

In the evening we watched Transporter. It's cool-looking but quite silly. Watchable, if you're in an action-movie mood, but try not to think too much.... I took over the computer to write out my Mage VSS which I had been avoiding for quite a while. *tsk* I've been putting off the 20 minutes of work for several month now. While I did it Molasses fixed our dinner, which was tasty, as usual.

I wrapped up a few email and journal things and Molasses headed to bed. Unfortunately Agent Orange was running a game in the living room and some of his friends are quite a bit loud. I eventually headed to bed but of course wasn't tired. So I distracted Molassas with a massage and more fooling around. He fell asleep around one and set my mind on "wander" mode.

Something's going on. Something that's probably foolish. Like playing with matches in an oil refinery. I feel like I want advise but what I really need is someone to shout at me, "don't be stupid, Nobody!" Or something. I have a good thing right now, I have a steady job and a great boyfriend and I'm feeling restless. I'm mildly annoyed, though, that I'm not specifically feeling restless in a way that could be useful to me. Like wanting to be in theatre. It's pure laziness that has kept me from sending a letter to any local theatre. It's also laziness that's keeping me from persuing advancement at the place I work at. I could create my own niche if I wanted, and/or I could push for a promotion. But staying where I am takes less work.

Instead I feel restless about things I can't help are just plain unproductive. Traveling, helping my family, my relationship, gaming. Arg. Why can't I be restless about things that matter?

I need to talk to someone, but I feel so foolish I'd need someone who I don't mind admitting being stupid to. I want to continue but I'm already blushing... It's just that