In Other News
2 February 2000
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In Other News
2 February 2000
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9:21 PM: Macy Gray has one of the strangest sounding voices I have ever heard. It's like a cross between Moms Mabley and Jennifer Tilly. Which I wish I had never thought of because now I'm having that visualization problem. She has a song on this best-of-99 CD from Q Magazine (some English glossy pop rag). It's a good song, sure, but then again, it's just weird. I can see how she could be quite popular, her voice is like a chipped tooth. It doesn't really hurt, as such, but you can't stop probing at it.
Another day of getting up pretty early, falling back asleep, and then struggling out of near-coma at 2 PM to go to work. That is just way too late in the day to be habitual. Bad bad. No pie. I don't know why I'm doing this right now, except that maybe it's the early-waking bit. I ought to just go into work then. Even if I did pass out six hours later, maybe it'd break the cycle. God this is so primitive! It's my body and my brain, dammit, I should be able to make them do what I want. The only techniques we have, drugs, are like playing pool with Atlas-V rockets. Fucking backwater century. In the words of Willow, "Grumble."
Speaking of, whatever happened to my sweet geek? Now she's all Wicca and spells and 16th century. Whatever happened to her computers? Come on, her role model was Jenny Calendar, and she was a cyberwiccan, remember? Humph. Humans.
Oh la. I'm in one of those try-break-curse-repeat loops again with this project at work, a procedure that takes hours to run, and keeps breaking differently after it's 80% done. Fun. It's quite boring. I could be doing a couple of other things at the same time, of course, to keep occupied, but then what would I have to complain about?
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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All names are fake, most places are real, the
author is definitely
unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne. | ||||
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