So, not everything I anticipated in yesterday's day log came to pass...
No DiSCORDER (or Dance Dance Revolting) since I was waiting around all day to help move thext's stuff into a car, where it was to be transported to the post office to be mailed to Toronto where he is.
Mostly instead I sat around the house playing my accordion. I am now reasonably competent at the theme music from Pulp Fiction and I Don't Want to Live on the Moon, and am labouring hard at hammering out the Bubble Bobble theme song (always my first attempt on any instrument within reach.) I also managed a rousing one-handed rendition of "Louie Louie", but as any elephant in a Far Side strip will tell you, that isn't tough.
After the mail-escorting I was approaching 24 hours of awakeness, which gave all of the following proceedings a somewhat surreal glow. Hailing to the axiom "If you can't make a fool of yourself in public through spasmodic motions coordinated to a video display, consume lots of Lebanese food," I met up with yam and headed down to Habibi's, our local mecca of discofever-derision and application of the goat cheese rule. En route I was accused by a drunken fellow of statutory rape; mostly asleep and quite puzzled I wasn't quite sure how to respond, which resulted in a valiant "Why don't you mind your own fucken business, buddy?" bystander getting slapped in the face by the indignant lush.
HELP US; ALL WE TALKED ABOUT AT DINNER WAS EVERYTHING! Gossip about noders we did and did not like, questions on whether we'd been node-stalking each other. Discussion of voting technique (and particularly, negvoting technique.) Shamefully (more shamefully than the extra-Everything Everythinging, that is), I was unable to finish the meal, most probably on account of the rich garlic soup yam didn't like the taste of but acknowledged as high-quality.
Much goodness emerged at the Living Closet meeting, next to none of which had anything to do with the Living Closet. There was a spine-manipulator on hand (with supadope ponyskin shooz) whose services everyone but me availed themselves of, and right at the end of the meeting we got into a big ideological hissy fit about whether or not it would be appropriate for the MC of the event to do a gag between performers culminating in the tossing of Testamints into the crowd (I am not joking about this one). The verdict was that it would be okay for an artist performing at the event to do so, but not for a representative of the event itself; unfortunately this particular fellow views MC-ing as a performance, so this will be an ongoing doctrinal debate. Got home at 25 hours of awakeness, slept neatly until 7 am.
Holy shit, I'm awake during the day! What's more, I'm awakening during the morning! I can't remember the last time that happened. Can you tell me how to get to Shell Beach?
On the agenda for today: mail, data recovery, polish film. Woo doggy.
Everything observations: under 1000 XP to go to the next (and final) level advance. Over 1000 XP from my closest rival, the boney one. I get to take this nice and easy. I'm gonna make sweet sweet love to the database and in return she's gonna give me godhead.
What comes after that? Can I be the All-Father? (Only if you poke out your eye and become Pseudo_Ntellectual...)
in our last episode... | p_i-logs | and then, all of a sudden...