No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2001-10-06 - 4:34 p.m.

Wish I was a millionaire, I'd play rock music and grow long hair...

I slept in today. Chilled out with a Far Side collection for a bit. Went over to the gym and worked out. That's six times this week. Five of those were just half an hour on the stationary bike. Today it was the bike, but also some weights. That's partly because I've been meaning to do some weights, and partly cause there was a cutie working out too. I thought that with enough time, I'd get up the nerve to talk to her.

No dice. By the way, it's hard to impress a woman by lifting weights when you haven't lifted at all in a couple of years. Setting the weights really high, then making some horrendous groaning noise before setting them at half the original?

Not terribly cool.

So then I went out and did some retail therapy. I got red and black checked flannel sheets. I've *always* wanted sheets just like that. They don't match my comforter for hell, but I don't care. When I got them out of the dryer and onto the bed, they were all warm, and soft and sooooooooo comfy.

I'm going to be early tonight. And tomorrow?

I may not get out of bed at all.

Now all I need is a Dream Girl to cozy up to under those sheets.

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