The first thing C told me when I woke up today was that Mr. Rogers had died. This is sad, sure there'll always be syndication but unless they find kiddie porn on his computer, a little bit of sunshine and joy is just gone from this world. The cnn obituary seems to confirm that he was as impossibly good as he appeared. Honestly, I sort of doubted it, especially with the ordained minister part, but then I learned he was originally from Canada and as stereotypical and potentially wrong this is, I could completely believe in him. In my experience, Canadians are just nice and "whitebread" all around.

OK, here's the deal. I work in an extremely overcrowded used entertainment shop. Think Collyer brothers. Now envision the rain we had last weekend, monsoon should come to mind. Now put them together and you might be able to understand that I have spent most of the last 4 days drying the 100 gallons of water that fell through the ceiling off of CDs and videos. Beyond the tremendous amount of merch that we lost, my keyboard got fried. All week I had notes in my brain about things I wanted to blahblahblog about. Like, C shot 60 buck. A perfect score on Big Buck Hunter. Of course, knowing him, he will now need to get all 60 with only one shot each! We were so socially active last week! In one 24 hour period, we went to a taping of
Last Call with Carson Daly (Luke Wilson from that movie Old School that we saw and loved last week was on along with
Ben Lee), then we hopped in a cab like in the movies and somehow made it from Rockefeller Center to Mercer Street in about 12 minutes, and made it to our seats before the house lights even went down for Lost Highway: the Hank Williams Story and the next night we saw the final installment of the Ben Lee & Friends series at
Fez. Which may or may not have been recorded. Busy, eh? I am sleepy and cranky and still have an hours worth of cleaning to do before I can go home.

So the word of the day is typical. and maybe pretentious. What was I thinking when I named and described this blog? The brain bleed thing was probably an infantile idea about seepage and these entries just dribbling out of my mind and across the web. Snotty but possibly acceptable, however this french phrase that I learned in high school from reading Death, couldn't remember, got the spelling correctly from a google search and have NEVER even used in a sentence is really going too far.

I'm feeling dissatisfied and incomplete. Of course everyone (or at least every 16 year old girl and 35 year old housewife) does. I'm afraid that the lack of time I spend on my art/self/anything not related to my significant other will cause me to lose it, whatever it is. Since this syndrome is boring and pathetic, I only feel worse about it. Damn it, if I have to suddenly have a late twenties crisis, couldn't it be in reference to something unsual and interesting? No, it can't and it isn't. Same old shit, feeling unloved and at the same time afraid that any "I" or "self" has been eclipsed by the "we" and maybe even the "he" of our relationship. There is some major breakdown between my synapses. We had a huge talk last night/this morning trying to hash this out. I hear everything as critical and as a personal attack. I am smarter than this. I know I can be introspective and perceptive and --tive my way out of this funk.

I have a Blue & White G3 running OS 8.6 and a G4 cube running 9. I love my macs. However that love is being well tested. This morning the dreaded flashing question mark came up, but the angels at digital society repaired the hard disc, gave me a clean install and everything seemed fine. I even installed a chunk of new memory and am currently running a speedy slick 640 MB of RAM. But now, it is past business hours and the speakers are no longer being recognized, so here I am with no sound, except for that grand startup flourish. Grrr. frustrated.

My baby and I are going to eat steak tonight! We have reservations at Sammy's Romanian on Chrystie Street. I haven't been there in years, it is exceedingly expensive and artery hardening. I can't remember if this slogan belongs directly to them or if it is from a review, but the catchphrase is "The only green things on the menu are Heineken bottles." C has never been. I know it would score negative points on the romantic atmosphere scale, but I think it will work just right for us. Yesterday i was wandering the West Village looking for V-day gifts for my darling, when i walked past Joe's Dairy, a fresh cheese shop. I got excited, he likes cheese! He even belonged to the cheese of the month club as a child! I walk in and they are actually making the cheese. Totally fascinating to me, I do not cook or build so anyone who can really do things with their hands completely impresses me. I end up buying a hunk of smoked mozzarella with slices of proscuitto rolled up in it. On my way home I stopped to visit a friend at work and when I showed it to her, she turned it on its side and said, "You're giving your boyfriend a cheese vagina for Valentine's day!" It's true, the swirls of prosciutto do uncannily resemble some labial folds. I laugh aloud everytime i think about it.

Today's triumph is recording from C's minidisc player onto my G4 cube. Due to an amazing little invention called the imic, which we learned about on the ever useful cubeowner.com. I went to battle with my sound control panel, but I am victorious and now the totally illegal recording C made of a show we went to recently now resides in itunes.

So, the week of not sleeping and going to movies continues. Last night we had free passes to see that Amelie chick's new movie, He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not (À La Folie Pas Du Tout). She's lovely. The unusual POV construct is clever. The story left me mildly annoyed but C said he was saddened by it. Basically, we know so many crazy girls, he could see this actually happening. No spoilers here, so after the french romantic thriller, we killed some zombies playing another shooting game. I guess I haven't yet mentioned the Big Buck Hunter game and C's obsession with it yet. I'll go on about it some other time, but for now, just know that there are only 45 players in the entire country better than him and he has shot 59 out of 60 buck. Oh god now I sound like one of the geeks! Anyway, people were coming up the escalator for a movie and we followed them into How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days. We stayed anyway, with the idea that free movies are always worth sitting through. You could count the guys in the theater without using your toes and every one was obviously on a date. God it was awful! And I am known for my appallingly hollywood comedy taste in movies. That seems to be changing though. For some reason, I no longer find the super shallow stereotypes comforting and amusing, but offensive. I've always accepted the flat supporting roles as "just doing their jobs" but recently I am HATING that the successful women are either cold bitches or sluts and...got interupted steam has been lost.

C and I went to the American Museum of the Moving Image last night to see David Cronenberg's new movie Spider. He was there and did a Q&A afterward (it was part of the Pinewood Dialogue series, we also went to see Alan Parker & The Life of David Gale the night before.) Afterward, C has a book to be signed (like he always has SOMETHING to be signed) so we wait on line (see that damn dialect survey regarding this in line vs. on line crap) to do a quick meet/greet/sign session. I had planned on being quiet and just letting C do his thing. Once we get to the front however, I decide to say "I had never seen any of your films, then he took me to 9 of them in one week." Cronenberg asked where and we told him about the festival of his work last year at Anthology Archives. Then me being me of course, I whacked him on the leg or arm with the roll of paper towels I was holding (we took the motorcycle out there in the snow) and said "The Brood gave me nightmares!" He said, I was going to ask how you were after all that or how you survived. Funny.

Listening to Modest Mouse's"Trailer Trash" on iTunes right now. About 2 months ago, C and I each found songs we had been on the hunt for, for over a decade, within one week of each other. I still haven't heard mine as it is on vinyl (and yes I know it is a sin, but we do not currently have a turntable set up anywhere), so is his, but he found an mp3 of it when he got back from England. I know the suspense is killing you. His song was "Police Officer" by Smiley Culture (1980's UK reggae guy) and it totally holds up. I am fiending for more from this guy! Mine was (and kind of still is) "Roll It Up" by Success-N-Effect. all I could remember for year was the chorus and the opening sample "You're out there on the street and you don't know what time it is?!?!?" I know it will probably suck when I finally hear it, but it's stuck in my brain from intermediate school!

Bleh. I'm back. Finally recovered from the mad xmas retail rush. Current fascinations include the Harvard dialect survey. and this band/guy mellowdrone. Just really popping my head in for now.