Date: 2001-10-22
Time: 10:37 p.m.

AAAAaaaghrrrrgh. I had this super ultra mega fucked dream last night but I can only remember like 1/10th what I could when I woke up this morning, and I totally remember being all like 'shit that was a superfucked dream, I really ought to jump on diaryland and tell the universe' but then of course I didn't do that at all, I drank an asspile of coffee instead which is a great way to wipe your ultra-volatile short term dream recollection data banks, fo' real.

anyway what I can remember is basically this gigantic robot praying mantis was chasing me. for those 'in the know' it was the self-same robot praying mantis in the 'four-ton mantis' Amon Tobin video from resfest that I saw a week and a half ago. that video, incedentally, was utterly shit and not at all interesting, which is a shame cuz the song is great and Amon Tobin has a general tendancy to rock the house with indominitable steez. but anyway the dream, yeah, the mantis was after me, and there was so so so much stuff that I've forgotten about subterranean modernist mechanoid dystopian landscapes, and myself and others running around with gargantuan futuristic weapons and commandeering computers and et cetera. it's a damn shame. I have a feeling that shit would dovetail nicely with that last dream I had (see 'older') about some army guys and all that but yeah yeah I dunno cuz I forgot.

yeah. so I haven't had sex yet. I will get back to you. I have to make a few fonecalls and check my schedule. I'm working on it. yeah.

the fact that my discman is broken and that I have no method other than my own somewhat limited powers of recollection with which to listen to music while not pysically located in one of the apartments I have keys to is a fact that causes me constant mental pain and anguish in the extreme. I have taken to humming some of my favorite hits from memory while on the subway, which presents other problems cuz invariably I start getting into it, y'know, like drumming my fingers and/or tapping my feet to the beat, maybe bobbing my head in a manner that would look entirely natural for someone wearing headphones, which are conspicuously absent on me in these cases, and people tend to start staring and then I notice them staring which of course flusters me and fucks with my rythim, so I look even stupider and then the blushing starts and the other subway patrons try to pretend like the whole thing isn't really happening and I'm stuck there with my fingers all mid-tap feeling generally monkeytastic. it's a serious problem as you can no doubt envision.

blaaaagh. Z's out having drinks with her friend. she invited me after my appointment with Mark. I said 'OK' but I got on the L before I realized that I'd said that, so now I'm back at her pad while she's all out drinking it up, and I can hear the psycho blasting the new Jay-Z on her shitty boombox in the next room but I'm employing some hot ambient tracks to cover the noise. not like I don't like Jay-Z, really, his new shit is quite catchy, but I don't like it when his album is weaponized by passive-agressive mentally ill housemates and launched out of a bargan bin K-mart CD player through walls at me.

hey you like how I used the verb 'to weaponize', culled from all those anthrax reports on CNN, in that last paragraph? I sure as hell did.

anyway yeahyeay more later, time for bed, gonna get up bright and early tomorrow and GET A JOB! yeah! really this time I mean it! you watch!