October 8th, 2010

Whale fluke

The Throat and the Sinuses are Not Seeing Eye To Eye

I'm somehow not yet to sleep.

I tried. Even went to bed early, and read until I started to drift, but then I could not get comfortable. Lingering effects of The Sick: throat's sore, and the sinuses are more active than I'd like. I risk either breathing through and thus aggravating my sore throat for the next several hours, or having trouble breathing through my nose. Grr.

So maybe I'll ramble on this for a bit. I'll try not to be gross.

Was actually useful today. That's an accomplishment.

Thanks to the mail, I now have my invitation to my company's annual dinner. This is a well-fed time. I know from experience. Means I'll need to wear a tie, but it'll be worth it for whatever beef dish is being served.

The wait may soon be over. I'd planned not to see Toy Story 3 until it was in second-run theaters, of which Portland has a plentitude, and now -- finally -- it's starting at said theaters tomorrow. I've heard it's worth the wait. *grins*

So: has it been a strange week for you, too? Leading question, I know. Definitely seems stranger from the point of view of This Late.

Oh what the heck, let's close this with a cute link: Johnny Depp visited a London grade school in full Capt. Jack Sparrow costume and attitude. THanks for the link, hughcasey.

And now the REAL close: glory hallelujah, my ears popped! There's less virtual gauze in my ears now!

No, now THIS is the close: the radio just gave me the bounciness of Elvis Costello's "Veronica." I must not be too sick: I feel sort of bouncy now.
Me 3

I talk THAT much?!

(Setting the stage: I worked for 4 1/2 hours this morning and midday, then got Internet time at the library then bused home. Been resting and/or using my home computer since.)

The last lingering -- lingering, lingering -- effects of the blasted sickness have left me wanting to use my throat only for ingesting hot tea and not for, say, making noise. So I haven't talked much today.

It's actually an effort.

I AM TRULY AND SURPRISINGLY A QUIET PERSON. But I talk under my breath (quietly) a lot. I make random comments (quietly) a lot. Snatches of words can come out almost at random. An occasional word or phrase repeated three times for some reason (nervous habit, maybe). What I mean is, a lot of words trickle out of my mouth in my low-ish, deep-ish voice. Except today. As I e-mailed to my work desk neighbor David Stroup, "You can pretend you're working next to Roger Ebert," who's NOT making noise without help.

I've long talked to myself. Yes, I know much more than half the time what I'm going to say next -- *grins* -- and I guess it's a comforting habit. Mom has talked about how as a kid I'd need to wind down when going to sleep by lying in bed and talking to myself, whereas my older brother T.J. could fall asleep much quicker and easier. It's partly why we've rarely slept in the same room, even when T.J. had a bunk bed; my talking might have complicated his falling-asleep, and I understand that being annoying. Sleep is important. I don't do that as much anymore, but I do it a bit. I can control it.

Still. Surprisingly little talking today. I'm relieved I managed it.

To close! Dialogue I still remember from the Mad Magazine parody of The Last American Hero: Robert Culp's character saying "It only hurts when I talk!"
Star Wars - Fly away...

Thoughts from the stuffy head

Words can come out. More of my voice, now, too, but I don't feel like doing a voice post, so:

  • For now, I'm going to try to act poor. Means I'm not going to Wordstock this weekend. I've been other years, though. It's a neat event. I've heard Sarah Vowell talk about assassins, Ursula LeGuin read poetry, Christopher Moore be odd and funny, Ridley Pearson talk about writing Peter Pan stories with Dave Barry, and Bull Durham writer-director Ron Shelton exhort people to re-write and re-write and not fall in love with your words because the more brutal you are with your writing, the better your writing will be. Among many, many other writers. It really is a cool event, and I get to it when I can.

  • This is probably a good weekend to act poor. Just sayin'. (Plus I didn't do a good job of that last weekend, when maybe I should have.)

  • Out-Of-Context-Theater:
    "Rack crack" is the worst name for cleavage EVER.
    (At least one person reading this knows the context! Will that person say anything?)

  • Adventures in Google Maps:

    So last weekend author greygirlbeast and her partner humglum were in Portland for the H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival. They walked where possible, as their bed & breakfast was within Portland-reasonable walking distance from the Hollywood Theatre where the fest took place. humglum, a photographer, snapped this shot (Facebook link). The following back-and-forth, I can say, back-and-forthed:
    Kathryn Pollnac: Raar!

    Christopher Walsh: Huh? Portland weirdness :I: haven't encountered? Thanks for sharing!

    Kathryn Pollnac: There's a whole yard full of tiny dinosaurs... I found this on my walk back from our room at [our B&B] on Sat. I might be able to give you a general idea of where it was if I look at Googlemaps. I think it was fairly near that 24 hour grocery... QVC? on a numbered street.

    Christopher Walsh: I can picture that area. That QVC's on NE 33rd near Broadway and the Banfield. Might be worth wandering around there.

    Kathryn Pollnac: It's on 28th and Schuyler. I love google maps. I just "walked" the street and found the house. It's really a neat yard display, and it looks like they might light it up at night.

    Christopher Walsh: Neat! Thanks. Noted.
    Another possible peregrination destination...