There is nowhere that you are not

Today is my first day off. Not bad after only two days of work. It's another gorgeous day and I'm in great spirits. This morning, I walked over to Ball Sq. to meet up with Chris at Kelly's diner to get the Celtics tickets and then got some coffee at TrueGrounds. On my way back, I kept myself amused by imagining people I know appearing out of nowhere and dancing in step with"Eli's Coming", the up-tempo and dance-able song by Laura Nyro that I was listening to on my trusty MP3 player. Everyone had their own moves that vaguely represented the way I perceive them, much like Felini did with his cast in 8 1/2. Picturing my parents doing enthusiastic cartwheels on the sidewalk amused me to no end. I laughed all the way home.
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Neil, the other new guy, and I took lunch at the same time yesterday, and when I returned from mine, he wasn't there. Ten minutes later, he still wasn't back yet. Then twenty. Karen didn't say anything about his lateness, so I didn't. Finally, she told me she let Neil go. He wasn't right for the job, she said. And I agreed with her. He was a nice enough guy, a little annoying, but he was probably better off in a different environment. Karen felt bad about firing him, but not too bad because she didn't want to hire him in the first place and only did so because he kept calling back after she repeatedly told him he wasn't right for the job. His tenacity got him the job, but it wasn't meant to be. I admit I was kind of relieved, because I had only worked with him two days, and my fist was already beginning to develop a crush on his jaw. That notwithstanding, I wish him well.
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Spira took ill yesterday and stayed home from work. Her stomach was having a bad acid trip which kept her in the bathroom for most of the previous night and into the morning. When I came home for lunch she was nursing a bagel that wasn't going to be fully eaten. She was in rough shape. Last night, Luke Warm came over to watch the Celtics game, and Spira joined us in the living room, still looking weak. Then she broke out the honey barbecue potato chips. She's an enigma, that one.
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My friend Janelle published a blog on Myspace this morning that floored me. I wasn't surprised it was that good---her writing has always impressd me---but she writes so infrequently that when I read something new of hers it's almost startling, her talent. I'm reminded of how gifted she is and I want to shake her until she promises me she'll write all the time, if only to satisfy my demand. Here's how her latest blog began (forgive me, Janelle, for reproducing a bit of your writing here, but I feel compelled to share it):

One time...I saw Zorro.

It's true, I saw him. It was a gray, clear, wintry day in Maine where I grew up. I was at home, it was mid-morning and inside the house we were a collection of separate existences. My brothers were each in different rooms, playing quietly by themselves, my mother was upstairs in her little room sewing or despairing or both. My Dad was outside fixing something, I am sure.

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Great stuff. The entire entry is engaging and rich in metaphor. I love being inspired by other writers, especially the ones I know, like Janelle and Doug.

I'm going to El Fin this and go play basketball on my Playstation. And don't think I forgot that I was supposed to tell you which Herzog film I watched, because I haven't. I know how anxious you must be to find out. I decided to watch one of his docs, The Great Ecstassy of Sculptor Steiner. So there you have it. If you want to know more about the film, look it up on the net, because I've had enough of writing for today.