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"The clouds will part and the sky cracks open
and God Himself will reach his fucking arm through
just to push you down, just to hold you down"
NIN
First, an addendum to "California 2003": Amy had bought a small bag of jellybeans for the road, and it wasn't until we were in Utah that she noticed they were missing. As I had packed the cooler she naturally blamed me. She asked if I had gotten everything out of the refrigerator; I said yes but who the hell puts jellybeans in the refrigerator? That is like putting peanuts in the fridge in my book. Not expecting to find jellybeans in there, I obviously skipped over them. Later talking to Tery by phone I learned that I wasn't to blame after all. The jellybeans had been left in the grocery bag on the floor, and in the night my girl ferret, Griffyn, had stolen the bag of beans and dragged it under the bureau (it was still tied shut, however. My theory on ferret thought processes is they think if they can steal the food and get it hidden, they then had the rest of their lives to figure out how to get the bag open).
Despite this naughtiness, she is still the best little girl I could ask for. If you don't believe me, see for yourself what a little angel she is:
Anyway, my sister ended up getting much better jellybeans (of the Jelly Belly variety) in CA, so it was all good.
In other news, I have been seriously OD'ing on Alan lately. First I got this scrumptious Nightcrawler pic --------> which inspired me to change some aspects of my journal from the default stuff, and I am very pleased with the result. The real descent into madness began when I stayed up until 5 a.m. Sat-night-into-Sun converting my "Design for Living" videotape to DVD (after cutting out all the non-Alan bits (because really, who cares what happens when he is not on screen?) it fit exactly into the time/space requirements for the disc. This thrilled me to no end). I finished that actually at about 3 a.m., then stayed up another 2 hours to write about my trip. Just as I was finishing Tery shuffled past on her way to the bathroom, blearily poking her head in and exclaiming, "You're still up!? I've been asleep 6 hours already!!" (I believe I have previously mentioned somewhere my compulsive need to stay up all night on the few occasions I don't have to work in the morning. I have been up as late as 7 a.m. before due to this.) Then last night I spent 4 hours or so putting together what I would like to think is the Ultimate Cabaret DVD, with just his bits from the London show, plus his appearance on Rosie, PLUS his Tony win including the behind-the-scenes spots during the pre-show and of course the Tony performance of "Wilkommen." I practically orgasmed when I held the finished product in my hands (but consequently, for now at least, feel like if I hear "Wilkommen" even one more time I very well might scream). Did I mention that while editing all these tapes I listened to my audiobook of "The Vampire's Assistant" read by Alan? (Those Frappuccinos do wonders for my multitasking skills.) It felt indulgently obsessive to watch him cavorting about on stage while listening to his voice so intimately in my headphones. After such intense repeated exposure to Alan's Emcee (who causes fantasies of ambushing him backstage, pinning him against a wall by those sweaty suspenders, and having my delicious way with him....for some reason I feel like he could be a bottom in this role despite his brazenness) I felt sure I would dream about him, but didn't.
I also managed to sneak in some time to rent David Cronenberg's latest film, Spider, with Ralph Fiennes and Gabriel Byrne. I started to describe this to someone as a dark, psychological piece when I realized how extremely redundant that sounded. David Cronenberg (Dead Ringers, Naked Lunch) is not exactly known for his frisky romantic comedies (Crash comes close, if you happen to be Marilyn Manson). It is very dark, but it has complex layers that I suspect will make it richer with multiple viewings. Both Ralph and Gabriel were outstanding in roles outside their usual fare (as a mumbling schizophrenic (wait a sec...forgot about Red Dragon, sorry) and an abusive, philandering father respectively). It reminded me most of all of Pink Floyd The Wall (sans the excellent soundtrack) because of the mental illness theme. I tried to watch it again with commentary but this proved impossible on the little sleep I got the night before.
In my final update, I went in for my mammogram and ultrasound the day after returning from my trip. It was quite uneventful (which is why I all but forgot about it) and, happily, I was diagnosed with only benign breast cysts. The doctor said they could aspirate them but they would most likely grow back. I said as long as they didn't kill me, I was fine leaving them be. The strange part was after all my angst while trying to find a doctor when I felt sure I had cancer (see my 8/20/2003 entry below for more if you care), as I lay on the examining table awaiting my diagnosis and imagining the worst, I felt oddly detached, like I was watching someone else's life. Very strange, and good to know how I react to stressful situations. Is this what extreme denial does to a person? I guess it is what it does to me. At any rate, it was a happy ending so I suppose it is all moot now.
That does it. Now we return to my life, already in progress.....
-=Lainey=-
and God Himself will reach his fucking arm through
just to push you down, just to hold you down"
NIN
First, an addendum to "California 2003": Amy had bought a small bag of jellybeans for the road, and it wasn't until we were in Utah that she noticed they were missing. As I had packed the cooler she naturally blamed me. She asked if I had gotten everything out of the refrigerator; I said yes but who the hell puts jellybeans in the refrigerator? That is like putting peanuts in the fridge in my book. Not expecting to find jellybeans in there, I obviously skipped over them. Later talking to Tery by phone I learned that I wasn't to blame after all. The jellybeans had been left in the grocery bag on the floor, and in the night my girl ferret, Griffyn, had stolen the bag of beans and dragged it under the bureau (it was still tied shut, however. My theory on ferret thought processes is they think if they can steal the food and get it hidden, they then had the rest of their lives to figure out how to get the bag open).
Despite this naughtiness, she is still the best little girl I could ask for. If you don't believe me, see for yourself what a little angel she is:
Anyway, my sister ended up getting much better jellybeans (of the Jelly Belly variety) in CA, so it was all good.
In other news, I have been seriously OD'ing on Alan lately. First I got this scrumptious Nightcrawler pic --------> which inspired me to change some aspects of my journal from the default stuff, and I am very pleased with the result. The real descent into madness began when I stayed up until 5 a.m. Sat-night-into-Sun converting my "Design for Living" videotape to DVD (after cutting out all the non-Alan bits (because really, who cares what happens when he is not on screen?) it fit exactly into the time/space requirements for the disc. This thrilled me to no end). I finished that actually at about 3 a.m., then stayed up another 2 hours to write about my trip. Just as I was finishing Tery shuffled past on her way to the bathroom, blearily poking her head in and exclaiming, "You're still up!? I've been asleep 6 hours already!!" (I believe I have previously mentioned somewhere my compulsive need to stay up all night on the few occasions I don't have to work in the morning. I have been up as late as 7 a.m. before due to this.) Then last night I spent 4 hours or so putting together what I would like to think is the Ultimate Cabaret DVD, with just his bits from the London show, plus his appearance on Rosie, PLUS his Tony win including the behind-the-scenes spots during the pre-show and of course the Tony performance of "Wilkommen." I practically orgasmed when I held the finished product in my hands (but consequently, for now at least, feel like if I hear "Wilkommen" even one more time I very well might scream). Did I mention that while editing all these tapes I listened to my audiobook of "The Vampire's Assistant" read by Alan? (Those Frappuccinos do wonders for my multitasking skills.) It felt indulgently obsessive to watch him cavorting about on stage while listening to his voice so intimately in my headphones. After such intense repeated exposure to Alan's Emcee (who causes fantasies of ambushing him backstage, pinning him against a wall by those sweaty suspenders, and having my delicious way with him....for some reason I feel like he could be a bottom in this role despite his brazenness) I felt sure I would dream about him, but didn't.
I also managed to sneak in some time to rent David Cronenberg's latest film, Spider, with Ralph Fiennes and Gabriel Byrne. I started to describe this to someone as a dark, psychological piece when I realized how extremely redundant that sounded. David Cronenberg (Dead Ringers, Naked Lunch) is not exactly known for his frisky romantic comedies (Crash comes close, if you happen to be Marilyn Manson). It is very dark, but it has complex layers that I suspect will make it richer with multiple viewings. Both Ralph and Gabriel were outstanding in roles outside their usual fare (as a mumbling schizophrenic (wait a sec...forgot about Red Dragon, sorry) and an abusive, philandering father respectively). It reminded me most of all of Pink Floyd The Wall (sans the excellent soundtrack) because of the mental illness theme. I tried to watch it again with commentary but this proved impossible on the little sleep I got the night before.
In my final update, I went in for my mammogram and ultrasound the day after returning from my trip. It was quite uneventful (which is why I all but forgot about it) and, happily, I was diagnosed with only benign breast cysts. The doctor said they could aspirate them but they would most likely grow back. I said as long as they didn't kill me, I was fine leaving them be. The strange part was after all my angst while trying to find a doctor when I felt sure I had cancer (see my 8/20/2003 entry below for more if you care), as I lay on the examining table awaiting my diagnosis and imagining the worst, I felt oddly detached, like I was watching someone else's life. Very strange, and good to know how I react to stressful situations. Is this what extreme denial does to a person? I guess it is what it does to me. At any rate, it was a happy ending so I suppose it is all moot now.
That does it. Now we return to my life, already in progress.....
-=Lainey=-
