a loud place


I got nothing, Jerry! I just got a long day and much work to do before I head out of town and no time to write. What I got are random thoughts and a half-hour left here today. Okay, here, I'll write down some of my thoughts in this half-hour as I go, because I don't want to leave you with absolutely nothing:

If I come in at 9:03, can I still pretend I meant to come in at 8:30 and was late? Or is that now officially coming in at 9:00 and still being late, but for 9:00?

What does it say about me that I've learned to accept this crap-ass office coffee?

Man, two dreams about airplanes making emergeny landings. Great. And I'm flying on Friday.

If tonight at Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon I purposefully don't read any of the subtitles, will I still get it?

I bet none of my friends know what I do at work. Watch, I'll email and ask a few of them... Yup, no one knows.

Hey, I think I understand that poem in the New Yorker!... Wait, no I don't.

My mileage statement. Hey, I have a free flight now? Excellent. Shit, where should I go to get the most out of it. Maine? Yeah, that's the farthest, I bet. Yeah, but I don't know anyone in Maine.

Woah. They're using me for the promotional literature for Austin Film Festival! Woah! The money for the prize I won last year has increased by 500%! Fuckers!

Oh man, my boss might be quitting. Which means things would fall on my shoulders. Which means that within about two days when everything falls apart and crashes it would become apparent to everyone that I've learned nothing over the last three years and just know enough to skate by on charm, which means that I would be fired very quickly anyway.

Shit, that might not be such a bad thing.

Ooh! I found someone to feed my cat while I'm gone. Some girl in my building. Man, it's pretty sad that in five years I've met basically none of my neighbors. Does that say more about our culture, or LA, or me?

Hey, a meeting left food in the conference room. I wonder how long it takes for unrefrigerated cream cheese to go bad... Ew, yeah, not long.

Does it make me smart or petty and ruthless that I've learned to visit people's cube the day after they're fired? Dot com scavenging. That's how I got my speakers, printer, and electric stapler.

Shit. It's raining and I have to go to the post office and be home in twenty minutes. Okay, bye, bitches.

The Robert Downey Jr. Happy Song Corner

 
 

I'm a spy in the house of love. I know the dream that you're dreamin' of. I know the word that you long to hear. I know your deepest secret fear. I know everything. Ev'rything you do. Ev'rywhere you go. Ev'ryone you know. I'm a spy. I know your deepest secret fear. I know your deepest secret fear. I know your deepest secret fear. I'm a spy. I can see what you do. And I know...speaking of which. My deepest secret fear is that I'm locked up in a room with Vonda Shepherd and she's singing and I have no earplugs and I have to smile and nod and pretend that I like it because I'm on the show but really I would like to stab my eyes out with the brads holding the season finale script (which is going to be really great!)
 
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