Yeah, all that in a couple of hours under the sheets, trying to heal. Analyze away!a surprisingly loud Glen Hansard wearing a fake washing machine; a very quiet and seemingly sulky Marketa Irglova (I wish I could say wearing nothing, but) wearing ordinary clothes, sitting inside a small lobby outside of which Hansard was setting up to sing; drag queens in that same lobby; an overheard phone call between my former boss at the dog show company and (apparently) her boss somehow concerning me; a tense drive to/through L.A., tense for unknown reasons; an office where Roger Ebert was in one corner office, using a voice machine to talk on the phone, and a family was in another part of the office, including a daughter who had a too-spherical head and had no eyes; and me waiting inside the building where Sock Dreams (which really is located in Portland, by the way; its store is in Sellwood and its warehouse is a few blocks from the Ross Island Bridge (you know more now)), waiting for it to open because Something Important was inside. Apparently.
The Baron von Munchausen would probably approve of these dreams. Me, I'm just "Huh?"
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Trying to end blog constipation! Also, feelings, ugh.
Yeah. That was a week of me not blogging. Whatever blogging I might have done during that time would probably have been really repetitive. I haven't…
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I can do stuff while feeling low
After posting the earlier entry, I did a walk. And an errand. A combination walk-errand. I needed to return a library book, Beverly Cleary's…
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Some days are low days.
I've been sad today. It has been easy to think of sad things, and I've been thinking of them while not doing much else. Trying to think of happy…
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