not falling down

Just slept off a headache for about twelve hours. Last night it had me saying things like “Jesus on a stick,” so Ithink I’m glad it’s gone.

I have a bad feeling about what exactly is involved with our next Comp Sci project–I’m going to call my partner (thesweet but utterly unable-to-code Sarah) and find out about it today. I don’t plan on pulling an all-nighter the way Idid on the first part.

Ben Folds was sweaty and intricate and gorgeous. He broke a string on his first song. On a piano. Not an easything to do. The show was great, though–I think I’ll be buoyed for like a week. He knows how to work a crowd. It waslike loud tantric sex in the key of G, or candy you get to just keep eating.

He’s also, on a scale of one to ten, the goofiest-lookin’ guy ever. Knows his way around a piano, sure–I don’t thinkhe looked at the keys the whole time–and can sing, has a great touring band, made the songs so much fuller than theyever were on CD. But he looks like a gopher and he has a perfectly round ass.

I actually told him that later, when we stuck around and I got a CD signed. “I like big butts… can’t lie!” Hegrinned, but that might have been reflexive. Having a hundred geeky white kids press you up against a wall will dothat.

Update: See pics below of me with a CD on my nose, and the zoom on said CD. That’s an autograph. For real!

Heading to see Ben Folds in a few hours. Woo hoo! He rocksmy pants. Buy his album or download large sections of it, if you haven’t already. Great pop.

Speaking of pop, Michael Jackson may be an alien, and he may be a wuss, and he may sound like a girl, but damncan he move. Watched the premiere of his short film / video last night, and even if he’s old he still dances likesomething other than human.

He would have pulled off the fight scenes better if he was still black, though.

I know that you went straight to someone else
While I worked through all this shit here by myself

Got called in for boyfriend duty tonight–Meg’s best friend got dumped, so she has to drive to Richmond and comforther, so I have to suddenly run the sound for a convocation. Good thing I’d done it before, but anyway, the convo wasabout abroad programs and I suddenly want to go to England more than I’ve ever wanted anything ever.

There’s very possibly an open spot in the London program next spring–one guy wants to go, but they already have aneven number and he’d have to find a roommate. Here’s the thing(s): It costs eight hundred bucks. It’s expensive to livein London once you get there. I have to take two classes for my major in the spring that they won’t offer nextyear. And if anybody does get that spot, it’ll probly be my roommate.

So it’s impractical to extremes. But.

I want to see what’s at 221B Baker Street. I want to be cold and walk around in the fog. I want to eat bad food and seeif Fenchurch’s house is really in Islington. I want to hate the phone system. I want to get an accent. I want to sayI’ve lived in London. I want it so bad I can taste it. I didn’t even realize it, but I really am anAnglophile.

Also there’s a couple people who are going I’d really like to be around, but for once that’s not as important.

Maybe we’ll beat the shit out of the one guy and both go. Hell yeah. Brendan and Jon loose in London! Keep everybodyoff the streets!

Walking into Forum auditions yesterday was like a sorority recruitment meeting. Twenty girls, twogay directors and… Jordan.

“A boy!” they cried.

“Dear God, Brendan,” Jordan said, with panic in his eyes.

I think I broke some hearts when I told them I was just going in for crew. No, not the girls–I’mtalking about Wes, the gay-but-doesn’t-know-it director, who looked at me pitifully as weleft.

“I already had you cast!”

I wanted to say “I know,” but I didn’t.

Tonight should be SS practice night,if we can pry Darren’s wang loose long enough to drag him over there. Then tomorrow night isShenanigans auditions, at which I’m supposed to teach something (ha ha!), and somewhere in thereI’m supposed to toon and write some Benedict.

There are lots of people better at journaling than me.

way to go do the deed
throw the punches like Apollo Creed

Back and forward (to and fro–aren’t I clever?) are written. I reign supreme.

Actually I just put this in here to test that they’re both working. One can do comedy, two can playdrama, but tragedy requires three…

I’m currently rejoicing in my mad coding skills, as I’ve successfully written the updater scriptfor this journal thingamabob. Rush of endorphins and all that. I predict it will last all of tenminutes.

I should be studying for the morning’s Theatre History quiz instead of doing this, but screw that.Now for the back and forward buttons.

Long Sunday.

I’ve spent a lot of time coming up with not-so-funny jokes and filler for the new “Creator” page,

which will have its own directory and everything. I’m using the front page date-manipulation

functions for an awful lot of stuff now; I think I’m at the point where I know just enough php to

get myself into trouble. I keep waiting for an angry email from MegMaster, saying something like

“You little shit. That’s the most hackable script I’ve ever seen! You crashed the box you’re

on three times today!”

The stool I sit on in front of my desk is called a Crushed Can (affectionately referred to as

“elephant dildo”); it’s a custom-made piece of furniture from one of the office stores in town that

utterly failed to sell. I got it cheap because it looked cool and ergonomic. I got the “cool” part

right. I mention it because my back is, as usual, killing me…

So I’m going to quit writing this now. Journal entry number one! Hooray for include files. I’m

hungry. Peace out.