RandomCha

Grr. I hafta work late tonight to cover a coworker’s shift. It was just sprung on me, and seeing as how everyone else is either off today or travelling it’s all down to me. I guess I could get all huffy about it, but I WAS gone yesterday …

On the one hand, yeah, nice to get a few extra bucks for the extra time. On the other hand, I had plans to go to the gym and now there won’t be time to do that and still meet Andy downtown for the movie. Out of shape.

The job interview this morning went (I thought) very, very well. I was articulate (I thought) and gave thoughtful answers, and I also demonstrated (I thought) genuine enthusiasm. Not to second-guess anything of course. Also, I “dressed up” for it … that is, I wore business casual, which is probably what 99% of you out there wear Monday-Friday anyhow but is, for me, something of a foreign costume. In fact, that’s totally accurate: I felt like I was dressed up for some “adult party.”

Back to the job … I don’t want to mention yet what the job would be, but let’s just say that I really want it. And that getting it would really change some things in my life. And that I think I’d love doing it.

At the conclusion of the interview I was given several firm and friendly handshakes and told that they’d let me know next week. I was so confident afterwards that I went to Stella’s for lunch and had an egg salad sandwich. I love their egg salad.

Stay tuned.

Jeremy had access to a car last night so on a wild hair we drove to Logan Square and had dinner at Friendship Chinese. Neither of us had never been, but I remember the place from when I had lived right around the corner on Diversey. That whole time living there I had never been! Anyway: damn good. If you ever get out that way it’s definitely worth a stop. Dishes tend towards the sweet and spicy, which is just how I like it.

After devouring the Paul Auster novel I am now devouring the Gavin Lambert book on Lindsay Anderson. Can’t get enough of it.

Oh wow, The Strangerer was so, so, so awesome. Alas, it ends next weekend and I won’t have time to see it again.

Whoa: who did I turn into today?

I decided I needed some swank new clothes to wear to my interview on Monday, so after lunch I left the apartment on a mission. First stop was the Gap. In there a total of ten minutes. Nothing whatsoever, except for several cute guys.

Then I went down Belmont to Ragstock. I had not been in there since they expanded; now all of the men’s stuff is in the basement. It was blissfully empty down there which was incredibly nice. I didn’t have to jostle with people and could just browse leisurely. I was there for over an hour and what I ended up pleases me no end: a greenish-brown corduroy sport coat in immaculate condition, a nearly-new pair of khakis and an A & F shirt (not for the interview but it was supercheap). My total tab? $17!

The next stop was Marshall’s, where I purchased a wrinkle-free fitted Geoffrey Bean shirt (blue) and a bottle of grenadine (for Andy’s party). After that I went downstairs to DSW to take a gander at shoes. I am 31-years old and I do not own any dress shoes. Figured that ought to change. Well, I did buy a pair of shoes; they’re very classy but I don’t know that you could call them dress shoes. But whatever. They’re beautiful crushed brown leather shoes by Bjorn, and trying them on they were amazingly comfortable.

I have just returned home, laden with shopping bags like the retail diva I’ve never been before. But I have a killer outfit for Monday. It’s dressy but still idiosyncratic.

Tonight is the Dirty FOUND show at the Hideout.

It’s time to face facts: I really like these green courduroys I have on right now, but they’re just too tight.

Blech.

I am finally reading the new Paul Auster novel, and it’s a good thing I’ve read every other novel that’s he’s ever written because characters and situations from them keep popping up. If this was your first Auster book, you’d either be completely nonplussed or just confused. So far I love it though. It returns to the deceptively stripped-down prose of his early books. 

I wish I could spend each day, all day either writing or not writing, as I chose. Or, as Andy put it the other night, “I want to be Laurie Anderson. I want to think for a living; just think and come up with ideas.”

Yeah, right.

A very very interesting essay on “The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet” that makes mewant to watch it. I never saw it, not even as a kid.

‘Twas kind of a blah evening last night. I felt rather uninspried to do much of anything, so I ended up being sucked into that time hole known as iTunes. I started retagging my tracks and adding missing cover art for crying out loud. All when I ought to just LISTEN and PAY ATTENTION to the music I have. That’s one thing about the new millennium that often annoys me: we tend to spend much more time and effort organizing our information than digesting it. Obviously, were he with me right now, Andy would bitch-slap me for saying that.

Speaking of which, he finished his class last night and now has a four-month break ahead of him. What comes after that is what he will be thinking about this summer. If nothing else, hopefully things will mellow out this summer a little.

Back to enjoying new music: “The Rubaiyat Of Dorothy Ashby” is completely awesome. So glad I picked this up at Dusty Groove.

No DVDs. No cable. No satellite dish. No PC. No theater. Movies instantly.

Welcome to VUDU.

I wrote in response to a post by

foucaultonacid

but I feel like posting it here as well:

That other old cliche is also true: home is where your heart is. Here in the US a great importance is placed on owning your own home. Everyone, so the common wisdom goes, is yearning to one day marry their sweetheart and buy a house (and a car). Well, none of those are true for me and as I get older I find myself increasingly annoyed so many members of my generation have bought into this myth hook, line and sinker. We ought to know better.

True, I HAVE settled down with my sweetheart (though of course we aren’t allowed to get married) … but I want absolutely nothing to do with either buying a house or buying a car. I don’t want long-term monthly payments hanging around my neck decades from now. And if I find myself needing to move, I don’t want the jibber jabber of subletting or selling or any of that. Clean break.

“But, but but!” the adults say, “think of how much money you’re wasting in the long run by not paying towards a place of your own!” etc. etc.

Fuck that. I’d rather have my freedom. And not “owning” my “own” place has absolutely nothing to do with having a home, or feeling at home in my apartment. All that is just a materialistic myth. I feel very much at home where I am; and even if I had to move next month, with proper care I would feel at home in my new place too. I don’t need to “buy” something to feel like it’s mine.

At three minutes and four seconds after midnight on the 6th of May this
year, the time and date will be 12:03:04 05/06/07.

This will never happen again.

News:

Job Interview, Monday, May 7th. Cannot divulge further details at this time, but keep your fingers crossed …