And say, have you heard...

BODY

... that a new Smashing Pumpkins album is coming out this July?

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I am, right now, at this moment, sitting in a quiet room at Facts on File. The "room" is actually half of the floor, but it has been partitioned into not cubicals, but sub-rooms by cubical walls. Each sub-room holds four to seven people, and I am sitting in one of the largest and farthest from the windows. It's a little depressing during the summer, but on a blisteringly cold night like tonight, it is quite comfortable, and the new carpet they put in a couple months ago has helped things immensely.

I am pretty much here alone. I had to stay after to read a submission for a literary magazine (Lit) that I am helping to edit, and I do not have to go for another ten minutes.

All day I've been listening to two Tori Amos albums... my favorite, which is Boys for Pele and my far-from-favorite, which is Little Earthquakes. While Little Earthquakes is less interesting to me, songwise, Girl and Silent All These Years and especially Precious Things are favorites. I decided that when the Urbantasm movie was made, Precious Things would feature prominently on the soundtrack. Boys for Pele... I love the whole album, but especially three tracks near the beginning. Father Lucifer. Horses. Marianne.

Also, I've had a dream almost every night this week. I should have written them down, but I still remember two of them in their significant details. The first involved me walking through a part of Flint that hybridized Parkside Drive near Woodlawn Park and North Lewis Street. There was an inflatable shark drifting along the river, and it emerged and tried to devour my friends and I as we walked down the shoreline, but then there was a girl inside (it was, after all, inflatable, a submarine of sorts) and she explained that she didn't want to hurt anyone, she just thought she could frighten us. I explained that I wasn't frightened; that my wife and I really like sharks. I told her that I used to live on the Eastside. "It happens," she said, in a commiserating sort of way.

Now What Do You Make Of That?

In the second dream I repeatedly messed things up at work, in stages, was moved from one work station to the next, and found myself incrementally closer to being fired. Which made me exquisitely nervous, though I couldn't help but notice that it was late spring outside, and if I was fired, I'd be walking through New York City in the sun and the breeze and blue skies, not just looking at these things from a building. But the overall feeling of the dream was a nausea and dread.

Now What Do You Make Of That?

This summer I created a Live Journal to blog about my personal life, but I haven't used it practically at all.

I have to go back to using it, or I have to resume posting such things here.

Otherwise, I forget things, and over time, I lose their meanings.

It isn't for you, like you care Oh So Much about the weather here each day.

It's for me, so I don't lose track of essentials.

Now what do you make of that?

END OF POST.