summer so far.

I put up a new gallery. I picked out my favorites from the last three months.

sand in my toes.

The highlight of my week. My job is driving me crazy. I. Need. A. Vacation.

Now.

company and fish...

I'm hiding out in the office at work, on break. There's this customer here that scares me. Because he looks and, more importantly, laughs like a clown. I'm not kidding. I can't stand the guy.

"The In-laws" are still in town. I've been sleeping on the air mattress...and I now formally apologize to any and all of our guests that have previously spent the night in our apartment on that raft.

I'm cranky.

later on, we'll perspire, as we dream by the fire.

As I was driving home for my break, I heard a song on the radio that I remember from when I was a kid. I was singing along, sort of, when it dawned on me that I'd been getting the words wrong. Forever. It was a song called "Africa" by TOTO (yes, I had to look that up, and yes, you know this song).

I know this song, strangely enough, because of my grandmother. Back in the "olden days," better known as the 1980's, Ford gave (I say "gave," but I'm sure they charged for it) people buying new cars a mix tape to test out a new-fangled technology called "the audio cassette tape." On this particular mix tape were songs like "Memory" from Cats, "Let's Hear It for the Boy," and "Africa." And my sister and I know the words to all of these songs. I don't even have to ask her. I know she does. Because we heard that Ford tape on repeat whenever we were in Grandma's car.

So, there's a line in this song, "Africa," that I've always (always, always, always) thought was: "It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you / There's nothing that a hundred men on Mars could ever do." Because, after all, who's gonna mess with guys on Mars?

I realized today that there was no way some 80's band included martians in a song with nothing but references to Africa. When I came home to look it up and find out how the line really goes...(I'm laughing now)...it got worse. I thought he said "I guess the rain's down in Africa."

Nope.

Apparently there's a girl on a plane (a part of the song I've obviously never understood at all) and he says "It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you / There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do / I bless the rains down in Africa / Gonna take some time to do the things we never had. OOooo."

No martians. I get that. But I don't get this song. What is he talking about? Granted, it didn't make any sense in my version either, what with the Martians who want to separate loved ones and rain that may or may not actually be in Africa. But I guess I figured it wasn't supposed to make sense. Now I just don't get it. Was this girl in Africa? Is she coming back because it was raining? Because that's just stupid. It obviously would NOT take 100 men on Mars to drag him away, if all she had to do was go to Africa to get rid of him.

i'm a snob.

Sometimes John and I will be out somewhere and overhear people talking about something, like a movie, and they say something that we know is wrong. Like, for example, I don't know, they get the plot a little wrong or a character's name. It always makes me feel weird. Because I sort of want to tell them the character's name or the way the plot really goes. But I don't. Not necessarily because I think it'd be rude to say something (because sometimes it wouldn't be awkward, like, if we were all in line together at Disneyland and they can't remember Eeyore's name or something), but because I'm pretty shy.

And that feeling, that that's not quite right, but not wrong enough, nor important enough, for me to correct a total stranger feeling, was how I felt while sitting on a plastic folding chair in the very crowded Vroman's Bookstore in Pasadena waiting for Nick Hornby.

I think I may have crossed the line into "weird fan."

I got there early, but not as early as I would've liked because I came from work. And most of the chairs were already taken. (At this point I happened to notice a woman who comes into the store where I work all the time...but she didn't recognize me. That was a little disappointing.) So I sat on the floor. Then this woman motioned to me that there was a free seat next to her.

The girls on my left were talking about How to be Good. And...they just didn't sound like they remembered the book...at all. I couldn't say anything though. Because they were the kind of girls that wear those flip-flops with huge flowers over the toes. And I'm the kind of girl that goes to a book signing alone and silently judges people for not knowing the...well...plot of a book they say they've read. Do you hear my judgmental tone? I'm so ashamed.

And then there was the woman behind me. She'd seen Fever Pitch, based on the book of the same name, and wondered how the ending of the book was different. Namely, whether Nick Hornby was married. And I know that he isn't. And I felt a little creepy for knowing.

The woman who told me about the empty seat was really nice. She comes to signings there all the time and lives in Pasadena.

It was a little strange. Being there alone. I mean, the three things I enjoy doing the most--reading, writing, and thinking--are things I pretty much have to do alone. But when I do things, like go to concerts or book siginings or whatever, being alone is just depressing. (For example, in May of 2002, I saw No Doubt all by myself at Riverstages. I ended up leaving early and waiting on the curb for Sara, who saw Ani DiFranco. All around bad evening.)

He was late. And when he came he had make-up on because he'd just come from filming the Late Late Show. The woman that introduced him said Fever Pitch (a memoir) was a novel. And why, why, do I care? It's not my book. And I haven't even read it.

So Mr. Hornby read from A Long Way Down, which was really funny read aloud. His voice is nothing like I thought it would be.

I got my books signed. And when he noticed I'd brought The Polysyllabic Spree, he asked if I'd read it. I said yes, and that I was surprised he asked... And he sort of laughed and put his head down. Because I made him blush.

He was really sweet and rather timid. And I made him blush.

I drove back through Pasadena, the same road I've been on every time I've ever gone to Pasadena. Because I've only ever been there to eat at the Cheesecake Factory or watch the Rose Parade. The view from the 134 heading back west was gorgeous. All those lights, stretched out for miles. And I was just coming back from a book signing of a world-famous author that I just heard about yesterday...and I just sort of remembered that I live in Los Angeles. California. As in Los Angeles.

john and i should totally get an alfred.

We were out late tonight, watching Batman Begins, in the hottest theater on the planet. It was so hot in there, they gave everyone passes to come back for free. Which meant that my night went something like this...movie spoilers not really intended...but...watch out anyway...

Is that supposed to be Tibet? What are they doing? My knees hurt. I'm getting. So. Old. Can't even sit in a theater without wanting to stand up and straighten my legs every five minutes. Christian Bale was so much cuter in Little Women. I'm getting kinda warm. Oooo. Bat suit. That psychiatrist guy has really weird lips...and he looks like a punk. Aay! What did he just put on? It's getting hot in here. Am I the only one noticing this? Dude! What are those guys doing at his party? Ooh. I'm hot. Go Sirius Gordon! Drive! Drive! I am roasting alive in here. Yeah, yeah, rubble and ash, Katie Holmes, hot, HOT, HOT!

If I'd been in Gotham, I'd have suffocated. Because I almost did. It was a pretty good movie though. Michael Caine is super cool.

perhaps that's why I sympathize with mr. hornby.

Okay, so I've already mentioned that I'm reading A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby, a.k.a. Funniest Man in Britain. Or maybe not. Truth is, this one just isn't that great. I mean, it's not bad really... It's just that I don't much care whether or not I finish it. After all, I have other books I could be reading that the whole world knows are good. It's a matter of loyalty, I suppose. I've read all his other novels... What if I run into him at Book Soup? (Not that I actually shop there, but I could.) Oh, sorry Mr. Hornby, I've let you down this time. I just didn't care if they threw themselves over or not. Not the most lovable characters, this lot. And I'd say the "this lot" part just to sound more British. Not that it matters anyway.



I'm in desperate need of a vacation. I've had family here and more coming soon, and that's great and all...but I physically need to move. A customer was telling me yesterday about how she accidentally left a book on a plane and wants to know how it ends. And all I could think was, Ooo. I wanna get on a plane. Pitiful. Of course, this time last year I was just about to leave Switzerland. Switzerland! Now I'm excited about maybe spending two days in San Diego!

As you may have guessed, what with the lack of entries lately, not much is going on with me at all right now. I talk about what I'm reading because that's literally (ha ha, books, literally...need vacation now) all that I've been doing. Except for laundry. Today I'm going to do laundry.

What's weird about this nothingness is that the little voice in my head (you know, the one that says things like Is that canteloupe ripe yet? and I wanna go home. I hate these people. No, we don't sell magazines. No, I don't remember who wrote The Devil Wears Prada and did you even try looking yourself at all?) it's been being very writerly lately. Sometimes I do that. My inner-monologue voice will play everything out like it's happening in a story. I'm starting to realize that this only happens when I'm really bored. As though I'm trying to point out to myself that this is the point in the story where I'd be tempted to close the book and turn on the TV.

i'm up, i'm up.

After all the whining I did about not buying any more new books...it made no impact. So, I'm about 100 pages into A Long Way Down, the new novel by (who else?) Nick Hornby.

I'm also about halfway through the night..and...up and typing. I went to bed around...10:30...I guess. Woke up at around 2:30 and my stomach feels all weird. I thought I should sit upright for a while. Let things...settle. Or something.

So, yeah, it's, like, 3AM and I have nothing to do but surf the net. That's something that somehow seems weirder, and yet, more natural in the middle of the night. I can only imagine who else in the country is still up doing this. Because it's late everywhere now. (Katie Couric and Matt Lauer might still be asleep, even though I assume they must get up before the chickens everyday. Not that there are any chickens in New York City, mind you. But I bet they get up before, what's in NY? Street cleaners, maybe?)

Anyway, I've noticed this semi-trend with all the "young kids" out here on what the president calls the internets...putting up photos of their so-called workspace. This scares me a little. You know how every Wal-Mart feels basically the same? This is also true of the apartments of twentysomethings in America. There seems to always be this corner with computer crap shoved into it without any thought and wires and cables and cds and extraneous bits like speakers and scanners overflowing all over everything.

No point to my pointing this out, really. My stomach feels weird. And I need to go back to sleep.

what's been up.

Well, my sister was here. And my two nephews. And my brother-in-law, with his aunt and niece. The six of them, my parents, and John and I stayed at a Best Western across the street from Disneyland and spent Tuesday and Wednesday in the parks. We went all over LA, criss-cross style, for the two days we weren't in Disneyland. They left on Friday.

On Friday, I was totally, as my dad would say, bummed. That night though, we went to the Hollywood Bowl and saw Garrison Keillor and A Prairie Home Companion. And that was really cool. One of the show's guests was Maude Maggart, who sang songs like "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and "Moon River," which I really enjoyed. (I found out later that she's Fiona Apple's sister.) Also in the line-up were Old Crow Medicine Show (they were probably my favorite), Leo Kottke, and Karan Casey. And, of course, the rest of the skits and music that are usually on the show. It was a lot of fun.

I'd talk more about my sister...but I don't want to get all mopey again.