August 29, 2011 by sandwichcontrol
I would like to start this raining Monday morning post out by wishing a great big Happy Birthday to Dave. Be sure to wish him one as well.
In celebration of Dave’s birthday, have a Tiny Desk Concert of They Might Be Giants:
I’m getting back into They Might Be Giants again. For weeks now, the playlist has been all Metal all the time. As cathartic as that was, I need something a little more fun now. I mean I turned my sadness into anger which allowed me to productive, but it came with a price. For one, I have had this knot in the pit of my stomach for weeks. Like a grenade of rage waiting for its chance to go off. Also I found that my anger is like a cloud of negativity that contaminates whoever gets close to it. One of the many reasons I don’t leave my house. Mouth like a sewer, grenade in my gut, ready to blow shit all over your house. No thanks. I’ll spare us the clean up and just stay home.
Like I said, I’m sure that my Metal has kept me focused on working rather than wallowing in my own self pity, but I kind of feel like singing silly songs to keep me motivated. I’m sure this phase will pass back to Metal very soon, but you’ll just have endure the random TMBG quotes and videos in the mean time. So suck it up, Nancy.
The past 24 hours have been pretty rough. Yesterday started out all right and slowly slid into suck culminating with me getting up really early today. Let’s rewind to yesterday morning and then skip to the highlights to get us back to now. I got up yesterday and was super productive. I ate cheesecake for breakfast, made some coffee, wrote a post, made a poop, and knocked this week’s article out. Then I made a menu and a grocery list. I then spent the majority of the rest of the day waiting around for other people. I waited on Prop Ninja, who in turn, was waiting on her friend. The promised Physics lesson thus delayed my grocery shopping trip, which was then done around 5pm on a Sunday afternoon. At WalMart*. There was a frustrating herd of shoppers there who obliged to make me wait a little more. Sprinkled throughout my day were phone calls of bad news and crises that cannot be mentioned here. The phone calls kept coming until 11pm, and by then end of that conversation I was so wired that it took a while to fall out of my own thoughts and into sleep.
Once asleep I continued this new dreaming pattern that I’ve started. I’d say for the past four days, maybe longer, I’ve dreamt that I was having an affair with a married woman. A different one every night. Maybe affair is the wrong word. Maybe relationship is a better word. Affair makes you think about whispered conversations and passionate sex in hotel rooms. These have been much more intimate than that. For one, they all take place in an apartment in a city. And there is always conversation and lying around in pajamas and laughing and snuggling. It’s like a good times relationship montage in a romantic comedy. And there’s also a lot of cooking and eating of raviolis. Always raviolis. And whatever wine suits the stuffing in the raviolis. Sometimes there is sex in the dream, sometimes not. Always a married woman that I know from somewhere and I’m always making raviolis. I have come to understand that these dreams mean one of two things. Either:
a) I really want to learn to make ravioli from scratch.
b) I subconsciously think that I need more pillows on the bed.
And then it begins to storm outside. Probably around 3am. I am woken up by thunder, get up and go take a leak, and then I go back to bed. For some reason, the cats took it in turns to need attention from me from that point on. Not in that “there’s a storm and I need comforting” way but in the feisty shit “I am going to claw the sensitive skin of your feet” way. Assholes. So, by the time that the idiots on the morning radio show started blaring out of the radio, I gave up on my feeble attempts at sleep and got up. This brings us up to now.
Right. Off to work. Have a great day. More soon. ~SC
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