That's a great song by Stars. Some friends think I look like the guitarist in this band. The bf says no. You be the judge!
It's freezing here in the Oakland Hills, or at least freezing compared to most of the time. It's especially distressing because we're having trouble with our plumbing and thus I have to go out to the little house behind our house and take a shower. The little house behind our house is great, except it's always freezing thanks to no insulation, no heating, etc. I knew if I went to the gym I'd have to take a shower. That's real commitment! More than commitment it's necessity as I find exercise to be THE greatest way for me to release stress and feel better.
I'm reading Paul Auster's House of Illusions right now as I await a big order from Amazon. I like Paul Auster but I don't love him. I appreciate his intellect but I don't connect emotionally to his work. I don't suppose anyone does. Maybe that's the idea. Before that I finished Good Faith from Jane Smiley. I don't know why I enjoyed it so much, but I did. The plot wasn't great, the subject (real estate) doesn't sound interesting, but I really really enjoyed it.
We recently watched a bunch of bad movies (Anchor Man, Dodge Ball) a mediocre one (Bourne supremacy) and a pretty good one (Door in the Floor). I also just saw Monster's Ball which was really great.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
Luna on the Radio
I don't know the name of the song, so this is the best I could do. I love the part where he sings Cha Cha 2000.
Today I ventured over the bridge and back to the city. I thought about the bridge and the retrofitting and the earthquakes while I was swinging over the bay. Mostly I thought how much I don't think about it, how it doesn't feel scary, or perilous, or any of those things. It doesn't feel like much. I remember driving over the bridge when I was a kid headed to Giants games at Candlestick. I have pictures taken from the window of my dad's van of the skyline of San Francisco. It's changed somewhat. The building I would one day work in, fresh out of college, wasn't built yet. Who knew I'd one day stomp around on the 20th floor, editing pen in hand? I guess the point is I felt something then and I don't know. Not usually.
I'm a little obsessed with getting older and feeling less. I'm not sure if it's inevitable. I think your pathways get opened up and re-trod upon and it takes new pathways to make you feel alive again. That's why it's good that I moved, I suppose, even though now I can't imagine moving ever again.
I just read a review of Closer that makes me interested to see it. Also, Meet the Fockers sounds great to me. The sunsets in our house are amazing. I watched a bird hop around outside my dining room a minute ago. I can get used to this quiet.
Today I ventured over the bridge and back to the city. I thought about the bridge and the retrofitting and the earthquakes while I was swinging over the bay. Mostly I thought how much I don't think about it, how it doesn't feel scary, or perilous, or any of those things. It doesn't feel like much. I remember driving over the bridge when I was a kid headed to Giants games at Candlestick. I have pictures taken from the window of my dad's van of the skyline of San Francisco. It's changed somewhat. The building I would one day work in, fresh out of college, wasn't built yet. Who knew I'd one day stomp around on the 20th floor, editing pen in hand? I guess the point is I felt something then and I don't know. Not usually.
I'm a little obsessed with getting older and feeling less. I'm not sure if it's inevitable. I think your pathways get opened up and re-trod upon and it takes new pathways to make you feel alive again. That's why it's good that I moved, I suppose, even though now I can't imagine moving ever again.
I just read a review of Closer that makes me interested to see it. Also, Meet the Fockers sounds great to me. The sunsets in our house are amazing. I watched a bird hop around outside my dining room a minute ago. I can get used to this quiet.
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
One More Time
The title has absolutely nothing to do with anything apart from the song I'm listening to: One More Time by French Kicks. Trying to pick apart dissatisfaction in the world of plenty. Should you feel shame for feeling dissatisfied when you have so much? Why can't we all just relax? Human nature may have something to with it, or more specifically, my human nature.
I recently bought a house. I'm 32 and it's a very expensive house, not really for where I live (the Bay Area) but anywhere else in the world. I'm over paid, over fed, over counseled, over informed, over entertained. It's Thanksgiving, I think I should think about these things.
My cubicle is spacious. I have a white board and phone. Most importantly I only have to be in it 20 hours or so a week.
In our part of the workd, there is little cold rain, no snow, no mud slides, no excessive heat, the sun shines most days of the year. The farmer's market overflow with local produce of all kinds. Our freeways are crowded but there are beautiful places to find once you get past the traffic. This is California.
I recently bought a house. I'm 32 and it's a very expensive house, not really for where I live (the Bay Area) but anywhere else in the world. I'm over paid, over fed, over counseled, over informed, over entertained. It's Thanksgiving, I think I should think about these things.
My cubicle is spacious. I have a white board and phone. Most importantly I only have to be in it 20 hours or so a week.
In our part of the workd, there is little cold rain, no snow, no mud slides, no excessive heat, the sun shines most days of the year. The farmer's market overflow with local produce of all kinds. Our freeways are crowded but there are beautiful places to find once you get past the traffic. This is California.
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