I cut him off.
I said, "I haven't seen it, please don't say anything, I haven't seen it yet."
He continued to drop a major plot development.
"What part of what I just said did you not understand?"
Did I allow the fact that this man has been at the company 30+ years more than I (or that he is four levels my superior) cause me to adjust my tact? No.
This became a running joke throughout the day as he sent me notes, e-mails and even a voicemail to my extension dropping the same plot line.
I have to admit, even though I was upset, the extent this bit was taken made me laugh.
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The new song dominating my subconscious is "Shampoo Suicide" by Broken Social Scene. This song was featured in a pivotal scene from Half Nelson, and after the film returned to the menu screen the song played again as a background to the disc's options. As I sat in my recliner, absorbing the scope of a film I thoroughly enjoyed, the song began to seep into me - bringing me back to the turning pointpoint of the movie... I instantly went to the iTunes Music Store and searched out the song, buying it along with another great track by Broken Social Scene. In less than 24 hours, I may have heard the song over 10 times. Yes, I know I'm running it into the ground... But folks, I'm enjoying the decent.
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Yesterday I finished Voodoo Heart by Scott Snyder. The previous book finished was We Are All In This Together by Owen King. Both books are compilations of short stories. Both books mentioned the other author in the acknowledgments... I found both these books because they were listed as "top friends" of MySpace profiles of authors I have read and liked. If only I didn't have a fortnight hiatus between those two books in the form of fantasy baseball research, I would've had a nice little literary groove or momentum... I'm not sure which. These little quick short stories are a great break from the mega-novel circuit. I don't know what it is about short stories, but I gain a boost in self-esteem when I start and finish the same short story in one sitting.
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I dressed up for Halloween tonight. Yes, I understand I was about a half year off. I wore my favorite navy blue front zipper hooded sweatshirt. A lazy earphone cord dangled from my front pocket up to my ears, playing the most recent podcast of NPR's "This American Life." All of this when on the rail of public transportation.
If that is not wearing the costume of an urban pseudo-pompous hipster, I'll never know what is.
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Strangers at Wrigley Field are hit and miss. I always try to leave the park with a high average of hits. The misses are quite clear - the baby dolled boobers, the high five shirtless drunkards, the snot nosed whiny kids and the middle-aged upper working class know-it-alls that know nothing (i.e. the man who said tonight, "you know, most team's best hitter is their catcher.")
However I really like it when I can find an associate in the area. It's easy for me to talk to strangers to start - the fact that we all face the same direction while focusing on the same thing make it easy for them. Tonight a few of us discussed a recent contract negotiation. Thankfully, I discovered a fantasy baseball info source though his cell phone. And there's always the comradiere established by the audible box score to recap an inning missed due to concession or restroom. The cordiallity of MySister's season ticket section almost made me forget the reason why even hall of famers only hit a little over 3 of every 10 pitches.
Most of Wrigley are misses - and the painful reminder is always upon exiting... When people are no longer faced in the same direction - and no longer focusing on the same thing. The focus is not the national pastime, but a natural goodtime. It is in fact nature that produces nicotene and alcohol, right?
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A few minutes ago I starred at my alarm clock so intenstly that I was able to distingish the shadows of dust particles on the display. The aspect of sleep difficulties I've always embraced was the way I can bring unfocus to a point. A free range of thought which will allow my mind to explore how the hell I interpret. It's that clarity that will often times succeed into sleep, but other times will force me to a synthesis... As plainly evidenced here... What am I doing here. I think how that prior sentence will look like with an intentional period instead of the understood question mark.
I fall into the trap of circular logic.
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It's now later than I bargained for.
By the way, in seaching for a picture to post here - i found this under "hipster."
However, I liked my personal interpreation better - I had more depth:
If you all continue dreaming, I'll continue trying
