justnick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Frammin' at the Jim-Jam, frippin' at the krotz BGM: "Lemonade" - Tsunami Bomb Well, apparently I look like I feel. I've been plagued with horrible nightmares recently, so as you can imagine I haven't exactly been waking up all that refreshed. In fact, I've been waking up a hell of a lot more tired than I was when I go to bed in the first place. So I don't feel that great, and I suppose I must look tired. In the last two days, though, I've gotten one "Whoa, you fight with Tyson last night?", one "Rough night last night?", two "You hung over?"s, and three "Man, you look like shit"s. Now, I don't know how in gods name people think they are helping or being remotely sympathetic when they say things like that, but it really is aggrivating. No one wants to KNOW when they look bad. Or at least I dont. So I'm finally one step closer to that million dollar settlement that's totally coming my way from Chez Tony. Today, surprise to end all surprises, I had to lift something heavy. Well, they say "lift with your legs," and the other stock guy has a bad back at 21, so my heavy lifting technique tends to be stand really fast. Well, suffice it to say there is an unfortunately placed metal staircase, that is far too sharp to be legal, directly above where I was planning to stand. It hurt. A lot. I ran my fingers through my hair, to alleviate the stress, when I noticed that they were covered in blood. So, long story short, they didn't even let me leave. I had to finish out my shift, bleeding from the skull, holding a wad of paper towel to my cramium. Now, it sounds worse than it really is, there's no permanent damage or anything... but still. My freakin head was bleeding. So I'm off to New York City to see Little Shop, cause they're bringing it back to Broadway. (Go Howard) I'll tell you folks all about it, promise. I'm gonna miss Ginny, though, I won't see her for a couple weeks, cause she's going back to Lametown for some gig of hers. Ms. Roberta Star, indeed. I'll tell you why a stage name bothers me, now that you can't actually hear me. Ain't I a stinker? I still remember the first time I heard you sing. You sang "I can see clearly now" by Jimmy whatshisface. (Buffett? Page? James? OK,I'm done) I was totally and utterly mesmerised. I don't think I breathed the whole damn time. And you were freaking twelve. Your voice is the most beautiful voice I have ever, or will ever, hear, and to me, putting a stage name on it is just adding flash. To me, it's like fixing Mona Lisa's smile, or adding some arms to the Venus De Milo, or throwing some shorts on David, little exhibitionist that he is. Ah well. I've never been accused of being a reasonable man. Or any kind of man, for that matter. Oh, and I'll miss you, too. Yes, you specifically. Excelsior. 4:27 p.m. - 2003-11-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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