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Continuing the Chronicle of the Continuo
01 April 2003
4 15:38

This morning, I woke at around 6 a.m., feeling, despite extraordinary grogginess and the usual morning stiffness resultant of sleeping on the couch (not THAT kind of stiffness, you perv!), almost 100% better. So since my body wasn't inflicting inexplicable pain on me, I decided to inflict some hopefully productive pain on myself and worked out for about a half-hour. That provoked almost immediate exhaustion, soreness and desire for water, which I felt was a good thing. I think I'll do some more this evening. (This morning was more weight-oriented; this evening, I'll do some stairmaster and treadmill.) Knowing how quickly my body responds to any sort of exercise, I figure if I do something like this on a daily basis, I should start to see noticeable results (well, noticeable to me, anyway, as I'm more familiar with the geography of my body than anyone else) by the end of the month. I think it was a good way to start the second quarter of the year.

Continuing with the chronology of the weekend, Sunday was whole lots of Mass. The one in the morning (Christ Church) went nicely. I'm hoping that someday soon, we'll be restored to our original schedule prior to the insane budget cuts. I went home to change clothes and rest a bit, as I'd under-dressed for the weather an a major way (I thought it was going to be warm like it was on Saturday morning; clearly, I was wrong). The afternoon service, which I sang elsewhere, was less pleasant. Well, the service itself was alright, but the rehearsal process before the service is deeply annoying to me, as we sing the same things repeatedly, 'til I'm tired and cranky, and a lot of it is unison, which does not interest me at all unless it's plainsong, which in this case, it isn't. I'm debating whether to continue to sing with that particular organisation, for though I need the money, I don't particularly need not to enjoy music. After the afternoon service, I was tired and achy, so I walked back home, through the misty rain (past an adorable blond boy headed in the other direction across the Green -- my libido knows no bounds and pays little attention to the state of my health), and poured myself some bourbon. I had two or three calls from Producing Artistic Director regarding casting decisions (I have nothing whatsoever to do with this season, but she values my opinion, and I appreciate that greatly), as well as to thank me for my work on Wednesday and Thursday. I think if she gets the people she's chosen for the season, it will be a good one; certainly the shows that she's chosen should sell well, and perhaps if we're lucky the theatre will even manage to turn a profit this year. Already, before the season was announced, a number of subscriptions exceeding all previous numbers had been sold; I would count this as a tremendous vote of confidence from the public in that area. After a bit of fitful sleep (on the couch, of course), I woke at around 3 a.m. and decided to switch to Scotch, as that is almost always guaranteed to put me to sleep; I hated to drink the good stuff (i.e., around $50 for a 750-ml bottle) for medicinal purposes, but it certainly did its job. I didn't reawaken 'til well after the sunlight had begun infiltrating my living room.

Yesterday, I finally remembered to go and buy more ibuprofen (I find it more effective and less dangerous than acetaminophen), shower gel (which I discovered this morning smells much more floral than I'd thought, unfortunately; despite some impressions, I'm not much of a flowery boy), and facewash (hooray for no more breakouts from using regular soap). I also ran into an old friend (We'll call him Patrick) online, and had a rather sparse chat with him. I think he was busy doing something else, but hopefully, I'll see him out tonight. (I think it'd be the first Tuesday night out for either of us in a very long time.) It was interesting to see the pictures he has in his online profile, as I knew the boy was built, but I'd never seen him shirtless; needless to say, I was impressed. At one point, I might have had a crush on him, but at this point, I just consider him a friend with whom I'd like at some point (preferably when I'm in a little tighter shape myself) to have insanely wild sex. It's partly just a curiosity thing, but there has always been a strange sort of tension between the two of us, which I believe, were it allowed to do so, could prove explosively pleasurable. I don't really much enjoy chatting with people online, as I mostly find myself pretending to make vague plans to have sex with people in whom I have no interest whatsoever and whom I most certainly do not intend to shag. I should find another distraction. Also last night, amid episodes of LAW & ORDER and various other things, I managed to forget to watch Leonard Cohen on AUSTIN CITY LIMITS. I'm most displeased with myself for that one.

Work today has been slow, and I've been mostly listening to music (Today's selections, in order of listening: Ute Lemper Sings Kurt Weill; Saint Etienne, FINISTERRE; Olive, TRICKLE; Pet Shop Boys, BILINGUAL; Faithless, BACK TO MINE) and trying not to read news about the Unholy Oil War. I find that I'm mostly fine as long as I manage to ignore what's going on in the world around me; I even managed to get "All That Jazz" (I have not seen the film version of CHICAGO, and I refuse to at this point, on the basic premise that I loathe Richard Gere and feel he shouldn't have been cast in it) stuck in my head 'til I got into the office. The workout thing this morning got me into the office by 8.30, which was a nice change; it also put me in a better mood when I got here and made me need less coffee -- More reasons to make a habit of working out in the morning.

Observations from before the "mysterious illness" in an entry I never completed, which was to be entitled, "Smackdown, Crackdown, Bad Taste in My Mouth": I'm a little disturbed. (Yes, I'm aware of the many applicable interpretations of what I just wrote.) I've had a strange sensation and a rather unpleasant taste in the back of my mouth for about the last week. I've also been a bit congested, often feeling the need to clear my throat. I'm not entirely sure what the source(s) of these sensations is/are, so I'm a little worried, but I'd feel like an idiot going to my doctor and saying, "I have a bad taste in my mouth." I've tried brushing my teeth, which I do regularly anyway, and gargling more deeply with mouthwash. I've tried drinking various substances, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic, both sugar-sweetened and sugar-free. I've tried going a day or two without a cigarette (not difficult, as I don't really smoke anyway). Still, this gross and rather phlegmy sensation persists. I have examined my throat extensively in the mirror with a flashlight, and considering the amount of trouble I've had in my life in the ear, nose and throat area, I figure I know what an unhealthy throat looks like (I correctly diagnosed C as having strep around New Year's Day; I'm a smart boy, me); my throat looks healthy. I'm hoping that this is simply a by-product of the absurdly inconsistent weather patterns we're experiencing, but I'm not sure. It tastes a bit like it did back in fall of '99, when I was doing the Atkins diet thing for a month or so. It also tastes a bit like when I was a kid and would be fed milk at dinner along with my steak. I'm not sure what this means. Maybe it means I should find that bottle of Allegra-D that's hiding somewhere in my apartment and start taking them regularly.

Random observations from music to which I've been listening recently:

It did not take the chords in Tori's "Your Cloud," which is quite unlike any other song she's ever recorded, in my opinion, to tell me that Ben Folds speaks my language quite fluently. WHATEVER AND EVER AMEN grabs me by the fag-tag on the back of my sweater and throws me on my ass in the garden in my great-grandmother's backyard at age 7 or so, and that motherfucker can play the piano with the kind of un-self-conscious abandon of which I only dream.

I was surprised, a few days ago, listening to ENCOMIUM: A TRIBUTE TO LED ZEPPELIN, to find myself choking back tears as I listened to Duran Duran's rendition of "Thank You". That has to be one of the greatest love-songs ever written, and somehow, Simon LeBon's voice, when he sings ballads, takes me to a night train through backsides of cities I'd never seen before in the snow, silently in love with my best friend and ever so vulnerable amid the swiftly-changing newness of everything.

Lately, I find myself relating to the Indigo Girls (among other writers and singers of protest songs...I've been listening to Judy Collins's renditions of Bob Dylan's songs from the early 1960s, as well as a number of others) again. I've only recently begun to appreciate their more recent work, though, SHAMING OF THE SUN, in particular. "Leeds" was a favourite from the first time I heard it, as it hit me so close to the bone; "Everything in Its Own Time" indeed. And amid "Scooter boys and Argentineans, Europe shed the blood of the Indians, and here I sit in the land of plenty, crying about my own virginity." Maybe I'll buy their latest album at some point.

"Stop the world; take it anywhere
It's just that living here is more than I can bear
Stop the world; just pack it in
Well, we've reached the point where no one ever wins
Peace is just a word; it's just a word"
--Eurythmics

(Annie Lennox, when she wails like a super-rock-goddess, just knocks my socks off...I enjoy listening to the PEACE album and bobbing and kicking things (quietly) at my desk to the beat of "Gimme gimme some more / Of the same old stuff / It don't make me happy / And it's never enough.")

I find British anarchy-rockers Chumbawamba to be underrated, or at least their TUBTHUMPING album, which has a handful of really ace tracks. (I can't say I've bought any of their other material, as on first listen, it strikes me that their bag of tricks is pretty empty now.)

�This conspiracy of shame
Murder by some other name
Pay up and play the game
Whose side are you on?
If any ask us why we died
We tell them that our leaders lied
Sold us out down the riverside
Whose side are you on?�
--Chumbawamba, "One by One"

I skimmed MSNBC's site in tribute to those soldiers who have been killed, taken hostage or gone missing in this debacle, and it merely further enforced my belief that whatever Baby Bush's motivations are, his petty gains are not worth the lives of even a single one of our men and women. I read an article in the NEW YORK TIMES which rather amazed me in its candour, admitting that American press coverage of the war is propagandist and encouraging us all to read alternative and international news coverage to find the truth; it IS out there. The more I read, the more immediately I wish to dissociate myself from this country and the liars that run it. If the truth is ever allowed to be told (and I don't expect I will live long enough to see it happen), Americans will be sore ashamed of their stupidity, gullibility, lemming mentality, and perhaps one day, justice will truly be served, and those who have committed crimes against humanity will be given their just rewards. I do not believe it will happen in this world, though, so one can only hope for the next.

r

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