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

2001-10-16 - 4:46 p.m.

Again with the Hurmph, and whoever invented Strawberry Banana Yogurt was one sick puppy, and you don't expect me to eat this tripe, do you, and the entry title is gonna be longer than the entry.

Hurmph, says I.

Hurmph a lot.

Hurmph to the tenth power, then multiplied by google.


The demon insomnia re-entered my life with a vengeance last night. I think it was approaching 4 am before I finally slept.

Today, I have willingly re-inserted myself back into the arms of the demon caffeine-addiction in order to counter-act the effects of his aforementioned cousin.

And last night when I was at the grocery store, some evil person placed one Harvest Peach Yoplait Yogurts in front of three Strawberry Banana Yoplait Yogurts. Have you ever tried Strawberry Banana yogurt?

Vile to the power of vile.

But since I refuse to throw away good food (though I have been known to let it rot in my produce drawer and *then* throw it away, but I think that's highly irrelevant to this conversation) I'm sucking down the vileness.

Mind out of gutter! Now!

And all this, plus the microscope RadioVoiceBossMan has trained on my ass is making for a pretty crappy day at work.

Yeah, you know you want my life. You're just afraid to admit it. Okay, you don't want my life. I'm just looking for someone to trade with.

Yeah, another exciting day in the life of j$.


Oooh, but tonight for MF...vegetarian restaurant. I'm gonna order the biggest, greasiest humus, tofu and bean-sprout sandwich they have. Then I'm gonna ask for a side of tripe.


I kill me.

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