IX: Crushing paper cranes

The sad truth of it is that I don't feel like sitting here writing this entry. Given that I've worked the past three days straight I feel I owe it. And I had about a quarter of a post written up that I felt good about. Then a mysterious keystroke, which I have never experienced before and might never hit again, closed the window and I'm stuck with only the topic sentence. Meanwhile, Blogger, in either an obvious attempt to convince me to switch to, or perhaps in the process of spending all their time preparing the "new blogger" (which I have lukewarm feelings about, having tried elsewhere, never mind about that,) have somehow done away with my precious "recover post" link, so I'm left only with this first line:

"I'm sick of un-flattering impersonations of me. And bad Borat impressions."

The first sentence refers to the infrequent occasions where someone will remind me of something I have apparently done, but exaggerate the details in acting it out to make me look like an insane person. The second is just me jabbing out at these people I bowled against who, in their frat-like poser world, insist on saying everything as they imagine Borat might say it... except in getting the accrent atrociously wrong and stripping away all the funny.

I was sore, as expected this morning, but bowling can be therapeutic. It's a very slow, gradual use of musculature (legs, back, one arm,) with frequent pauses between motions, perhaps to let your muscles breathe. So I wasn't all that hampered at bowling, but I knew I wasn't going to make it through work. And, upon arriving, working for a while, and realizing that I was wearing my non-work shoes, I knew this to be absolutely true. It wasn't a horrible day, but one little fuck-up on cash (which I wasn't even assigned to, just told to handle someone else's, sigh,) put an exclamation point in the middle. Of course, exclamation points don't go in the middle. Jsut at the end, or beginning if you're spanish. Or something. Off-topic? Pretty much.

I can't get the HMV playlist out of my head. I distract myself from Wham by thinking of Brian Setzer. From Brian Setzer I go to Boney M. and let's not even get into Michael Buble. Each of these artists, with the exception of Setzer, is annoying in their own way. But you grin, bear it, and get on with your life while you're working. At home, when you find yourself humming "Careless Whisper," you're in trouble. For some reason, it's never Roger Hodgson. I guess his live solo version of "Dreamer" isn't as effective as the Crime of the Century track. I like Supertramp. And who shouldn't?

Last night after work, I arranged to meet up with Chrisbrown and "others" (I didn't know whom at the time,) for bar night. We'd discussed it the night before, and Alyssa was going to come along but I couldn't reach her (and after speaking to her earlier tonight, I realized I had neglected to ask about that. I assume from all indications it had to do with a big family christmas do.) We got there, and it's a reunion of sorts of people I know but on a sliding scale of how well. Cary, unsurprisingly. And Emma, whom I hadn't seen in months. Kate, Vanessa and Janessa were all there, and Janessa even drank, to my surprise (not that she got sloppy drunk or anything, but hey, one step at a time.) I had one probably well-overpriced beer, which I just barely had the cash to pay for (and no tip) before we hit the road.

After, I tagged with Cary, CB and (obviously) Emma, to Emma's place, where we interrupted the cast party for "Our Town." I didn't stay long, but enough to play catch-up with some of the people there that, despite the age gap, are good friends of mine. CB gave me a lift home circa 1:30 and I crashed moments later.

Though the past few days have been full of events, they have certainly been uneventful nonetheless. There's something to that, good and/or bad, but I'm a little exhausted to be thinking about it and digging into what it really means. I just want to rest.

My plan for tomorrow is to sleep late, and then catch up on writing.

Life ought to have more to it. But what more do I need?

Keep on rockin'
-Scott