There's no poetry between us, said the paper to the pen

I am exhausted today. And I feel sick. I think that both of these things may be related to a distinct lack of food yesterday, so I'm working to remedy that.

And I'm tired of my CDs, so I'm browsing KCRW for good groups. I should really add them to my list of places to support once I have money, since I really love the music they play there. fingle, they've got most bands that I talk about--Postal Service, Travis, Goldenboy, and of course, Pete!

And I've got to run off and find out how the heck to install HomeSite on this machine so the XML doesn't make me completely crazy before I find the last 4 errors in it. gah.

I hope this song will guide you home

Well, I tried Gary Jules, and I'm not totally turned off, but I'm not sure how much I do like him. For all that I love just melancholy british boys, there's always an element of lightness in my bands, and I wasn't getting that from Gary. But I did really like whatever song it was I quoted from in the last entry.

And I adore the Postal Service, but I forget how different electronic groups sound live. For example, this boy sounds like he injured himself jumping from one note to another in the District Sleeps Alone Tonight (which I still love an obscene amount, even when it's not as pretty). Other songs shouldn't make as much difference, I'd guess. (We will become silhouettes, for example sounds about the same other than the annoying woman singer on it).

I'm wondering if the singer is canadian, as I can't imagine another nationality that would use a hockey metaphor in a love song. ;) (well, technically a not-in-love-anymore song--I see Nothing Better as the follow-up to Such Great Heights, not that I assume all relationships end or anything.)

(Ooh, and hannah, Nic just namedropped Bright Eyes, I'll have to look them up when I'm done with this piece)

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Meh. Between how stuffed up I am from allergies and having forgotten to eat a little too often lately, I'm currently dizzy everytime I look over my shoulder. And since I've put the notes I'm working off of right next to my shoulder, I am making myself sick checking notes. Which means as soon as I'm done here, I'm going to go get some food into me. Meh.

And I just got a message beep from my cell phone, and the department here that I was working for last month just called--the creative director, actually--to see if I could come back for a few days next week and help with invoices. On the one hand, this is much more fun than that. On the other hand, I'm a little worried that I've torn through work that's supposed to have taken me a good bit longer, and thus I'm worried that I'll run out of work before I run out of month. So I have to see if, for example, the staffing group calls me about it. And I'll have to write him a nice note of some sort, right? (I am amused because my sneakiness paid off a least a little. He was looking at my resume for my number, cause I left it for them since it has all my contact info and my skills.)

Meh. Food. I'm, alas, Chailess since they're just offering Kashmir, which wasn't bad, exactly, but it's got mint in it, and I don't want mint. And why are all these cubes set up so that your back is always to the door? I had more privacy in the computer lab I was working in earlier today.

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Note to self: work Willie Nelson titles into next submission to Say....


And holy crap, I just saw weird lights in the window and it was, literally, the next best thing to a UFO. That's right, baby! Stretch white hummer. Because the normal sized one doesn't say "conspicous consumption" loudly enough. I'm wondering if this is the same one I saw in front of the Armani cafe the other day at lunch time. On the one hand, one wants to think that there aren't several of these things roaming the area. On the other hand, what on earth does this neighborhood have in common with the Armani cafe (well, other than me, obviously). And I now have a carnivorous cars story idea.

And unless I get an email in the next...3.5 hours, I have not sold a story this year. I would feel sad, except that I didn't write a whole lot this year, and while I do love my older stories, I also understand very well why they haven't sold, by and large. I still have hopes, of course, but I know they're unrealistic at this point.

And I'm off to go watch spy kids downstairs. Antonio Bandaras--still cute. Old. but cute.