Z: At whatever cost.

I keep getting off track, and that's the truth. There's a lot of nothing going on lately and it's all very distracting. Since there's not much to tell I'll knock off a quick entry and go back to ignoring this blog.

Last weekend was Marti's birthday. I was on the fence about going out for it, because of the effort required and the perceived amount of enjoyment I'd get. Then I thought, shit, I don't get many excuses to get out of the house, and it'd be a shame if my cinnamon adventure were the last visit I had to the city for a while. So I went, and I was glad I did.

I met up with the gang at a Jack Astor's. Much of the early part of the night was spent talking nonsense with Shane, films and school and everything, while I casually doodled a Sewerman (my first in seemingly years) on the table paper in crayon. I caught up with Marti and Rosie, of course, and some of their other acquaintances, a girl who'd just graduated from York, whose boyfriend was in the process of building a large crayon tower on the table. It quickly became a big attraction as waitresses passing by commented and brought more crayons to make the tower higher. It eventually topped out at 50 crayons before falling under the weight of its own hubris or something more logical (physics.)

In the end, though the night was rather brief (I did after all have to get to work the next day, so I ducked out when the party began to relocate itself to a club 'round 11:30 or so.) I then took the worst, longest zone bus trip of my life, with the driver going all the way out to Third Line before dropping me of at the wrong location. Me: "Sixth and Sewell." Driver: "Sewell? Is that McCraney? Sixth and McCraney?" It's right there on the fucking map! Then instead of taking me to the wrong stop he said he would, he went further and wound up letting me off at McCraney and Montclair. The only other passenger was equally unamused so he got off then too. If I'd known what a bad route he'd chart, I'd have saved myself the 65 cents and walked home, gotten there sooner.

The week's been a blur of inactivity. I keep getting my shifts switched around because this young co-worker has summer school and she needs her nights for homework or something, and what am I, gonna say no?

Xena's over for the next couple weeks. She and Bella do not get along. This has made my life an undeterminable amount worse. But hey, if that's my biggest complaint, shit can't be that bad. I'm just not so looking forward to the fall. Well there's a lot of great unknown there.

I spent my shift today removing video game trade & play stickers. Every single game in the store had one of those bad boys, and I removed 'em all with a half hour to spare. Then I recommended a dude buy Memento and The Unforgiven. He's might regret it, but I make no guarantees on my recommendations. I also gave him Collateral and Children of Men to think about. He wanted stuff "like Taxi Driver." He also dripped ice cream on the carpet.

But hey, he was a nice enough guy.

I'm listening to Joel Plaskett's Three. It's nice, earthy music, after being into a fairly hectic trend of my music habits lately. The last CD I bought was Richard Hell's protopunk classic Blank Generation. What a cool record, but it wears on you. Some great tracks on there. Smart punk.

I'm out of stuff. Keep on rockin
-Scotto