Had dreams of UFO's last night. Vague recollections of multi-hued orbs zig-zagging in the sky tease my waking thoughts. At one point, the moment that woke me up, I was laying on my back and began to vibrate, not unpleasantly, beginning at my feet and surging up to my head. I suspect reading the Skinwalker book before bed had something to do with these dreams. I woke up this morning with a slight feeling of dread. Don't know if it was from the dreams or if it had to do with the general unease that crops up in my life when things aren't looking too bright, which I'm unhappy to report is more often than not.
Ah, but it's still early and the day can change for the better. The sun is out and if I get out of here early enough today, I'll go for a run. If by some chance it's raining then, I'll do some yoga, an activity I've been meaning to get back into. And after that, I'll see if I can send some emails out to clubs in the area, something I've been meaning to get around to. So, like everyone does in their respective ways, I'll trudge on and make the best of things.
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I'm eager to play out. I've been practicing a lot and, consequently, my skills are sharp. All I need to do, like I said above, is book some shows. If I had an agent, things would be easier, but I'm not about to pay an agent for something I can do for free. Maybe when I'm on the brink of fame will I take that next step.
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I put a dent into The House by the Cemetery, the Fulci film Rich let me borrow the other day. Rich, a horror movie buff, told me it was pretty scary, so I was looking forward to getting creeped out. I made it through a good chunk of the film before falling asleep, which should be an indication of how successful movie was in giving me the creeps. The film would have worked if it wasn't so hilariously implausible. And the shitty acting and even shittier overdubbing didn't help much. I should withhold further judgement until I see the rest of the movie, but I'm pretty sure the only thing I'll be terrified by will be the fact that I wasted an hour and a half watching a D-level film wearing a B-movie's clothes. I still haven't seen a movie that's put the fear into me like The Exorcist or Rosmary's Baby. The Shining is no slouch, either. Most other so-called horror films just don't do it for me. Same goes with comedies. Not too many out there I think are funny. I must have incredibly refined sensibilities or there just aren't that many quality films in either of those genres. To massage my ego, I'll go with the former of the two.
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Breaking news: Jim, Karen's brother who has an office in our building, just came over to me carrying a waste basket with a baby mouse in it. Apparently, it had fallen in and couldn't get out. Jim, feeling merciful, emptied the bucket outside and the mouse scurried off down the sidewalk. Unfortunately for the little guy, some kid coming from the opposite direction saw him and started throwing rocks at it. He lost interest quickly and went on his way. About a minute later, I looked over at the door and saw the poor mouse jumping into the glass trying to get back inside. I went over to it and decided to grant it its wish, only I planned on putting it in the warehouse instead of back in Jim's office. I hurriedly searched for a box to transport the mouse in, but I discovered, much to my dismay, that the mouse couldn't wait any longer for me and sought other means of reentry. I hope he was successful, because life on the outside is brutal.
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Next month will mark my two year anniversary being a non-smoker. I think I'll buy a pack of butts to celebrate. Just to show myself I'm not missing anything. Not to, you know, actually get back in the habit again. I'll just smoke the pack and be done with it.
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Haven't thought about her too much lately, but when I do it's with a sense of regret. Regret, in that I feel I missed an opportunity, if one was even there in the first place. That's what sucks---not knowing if it was all in my head or if there was/is something tangible there. My gut tells me she's not interested in anything beyond a frienship, that for all I know, she's feeling the same way about someone else the way I do with her. Ah, but my gut is a drunken compass when it comes to women. Aw, hell, do I even want to immerse myself in a relationship right now? Would I prefer something more casual that would leave room for the independence I've grown accustomed to over time? Or would I rather remain alone? Sometimes I answer yes to each question, but with varying enthusiasm. It's obvious I'd say, judging by what I choose to write in this journal, that I'd like to try the relationship thing. (God, do I sound like a soft little prick wearing hushpuppies and a cardigan, or what? Man, I need to go eat some steak or something.) As hard to read as I sometimes find her to be, as frustrating as that makes me, I just utterly think the world of her. Can't help myself. Ah, and there's where I set myself up for the fall. Even knowing that, my feelings for her won't budge. Christ, if she only knew...
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Whew, this was a long one. I should probably give us all a break and wrap it up.
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