I like the ice queen

on the surface I forget what day it is, except that I have four days - less - to go. but then there is not one single solitary buddy on IM and I remember that it really is friday, that in new york sundaygirl is drunk and birthday blissed out, that if we had tv reception I would have watched the premiere of firefly, that if I was anywhere else, there would be a greater possibility of my not sitting in a room full of piles, papers, books, printouts of digital photographs, australia stuff, magazines, small padlocks for my pack and a large one for locking my stuff in a locker if I need to, the piles of cds I'm still thinking about reviewing, the piles of this that and the other thing.

the atlas is on the floor, open to page 112 where the continental u.s. sprawls across pages and time zones.

my mother is in the other room, sewing on my couscous express patch because the iron-on goop wouldn't stick and I am domestically disabled. needles and thread? I had this idea that I wanted to make myself some clothes, the other week. or alter some that I have. I asked my mom where the sewing machine was, but she wasn't sure.

and that was the end of that.

not that I knew how to do what I wanted to do anyway.

I've been putting things in their places, papers here, social security card somewhere other than my wallet. sitting at the cafe with the lonely planet australia guide, noting down things to look up. tomorrow. tonight it's friday and I think I will indulge accordingly. pizza for dinner, henry's dark from the fridge. this is my version of the weekend.

(nerd postscript: last night I read the trade paperback of some of the grant morrison new x-men stuff, imperial. when I bought it in the bookstore in the mall the girl behind the counter seemed pleased, but she stopped seeming so when I told her I bought it because of who wrote it, that I can't keep up with all the different x-men tangents anymore. I think she was mildly offended. ah well. it's a lovely book, excepting the parts not drawn by frank quitely. oh, sigh. why would you put someone else in a book with quitely? it's just going to look bad. and it does. but otherwise, whoosh! big and cinematic. I'd like them to use this story for an x-men movie. oh yes indeed.)