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

2001-10-04 - 8:47 p.m.

A really weird one about Gilligan, and drunkenness.

Last week I sent an email to jo3 that started (no shit) "eRoommate and I just got back from the B&B. Beers were drunk. So am I."

Beers were drunk.

So am I.

Aint I just the cutest thing in the world?

Tonight it's not beers that are drunk. It's my new mixed drink. Cap'n Morgan's Spiced Rum and Ginger Ale. I'm tentatively calling it Gilligan's Nightmare.

You know. Gilligan's Island? The Skipper and Ginger, all swirling around and mixing in a small space. And Gilligan, with his crushingly unrequited crush on Ginger. Wouldn't that be a nightmare for him, if the Skipper and she hooked up?

And by the way, what was with Ginger always leading on poor Gilligan. I mean, sure the man certainly had a repressed love for the Skipper (You don't think he got a nickname like "Little Buddy" for nothing do you?), but still it was downright cruel the way she would toy with that poor schmuck.

This is some of the first memories I have of trying to understand the relationship between men and women. I identified with Gilligan. I *hated* Ginger for the way she messed with his mind.

And Mary-Anne?

Yeah, she was my first crush.

I've just realized where this entry is going. Beware j$ when he has a drink or two and starts sharing.

Beware, I say.

Alas, Life.

Gilligan's Nightmares were drunk.

And so am I.

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