2005-04-18 - 9:48 a.m.

[Update]:Just changed my sheets and I know you are all really interested. Well, this is how I spend my days off.

Anyway, as I was changing the sheets and reading I was playing some music on my stereo, wondering what the neighbors would thing of my totally awesome musical taste - when between songs, I heard a song I sort of recognized. It was "I Could Sing of Your Love Forever."

I love that song.

So, how does it feel to be at work? [/Update]

So there is a new corporate secretary, but I don't get to meet her. The HR woman toured her around the office introducing her to people, but not to my cube. Am I paranoid? I hope not! I hope they've decided that I'm a bad influence. That would be sweet!

But I feel bad for this secretary. She has no idea what she is getting into here. I mean the VP with the creepy collection of stuffed animals is, well, a freakish muppet show from Planet 10, but he isn't nearly as bad as the Prez. and his intriguing "Manage by Abuse" style which is perfect for the Vengeance Driven Company of the 21st Century of which we are the model if not the only extant example.

Yes, the driving force in our company is vengeance. That is no joke. Scary stuff.

But it's still a fun place to work. You overhear things like "and it'll get all the little hairs out" and other mysterious bits of conversation that you pray no one will ever explain to you because the thought is too horrifying.

H#1 asked me to write out my spiritual history. We're going to trade. I don't know where things stand with her. I think our relationship is hopeless. What relationship? I mean, someday, she says, if she gets tired of waiting for her ex, maybe we could be a couple. I think I've lost hope in that and don't think it's healthy for me to do this. But who knows.

Oh, and I've met someone else. There's that, too.

Nothing official yet, though, so don't get excited. There is a good chance this new one will rip my heart out like all the others before. You see, I have absolutely no idea what I am doing. None at all. God'll have to work it out, I guess. Anyway, American Analog Set is playing on my stereo (That's right - I've got the day off - yee haw!) so things aren't so bad. They can only be so bad when this album is playing.

It turns out that I like The Master and Margarita. I know! I know! I've been bitching about it all the time, how I hate all the characters, etc... but just as I was finishing it Friday night something shifted and suddenly I didn't mind not liking the characters. It's not that the ending redeemed the book or something - although the ending was interesting - rather it was that at some point I thought "What's the point is hating these people? They are who they are," and then I suddenly saw the whole book in a different light.

It all goes back to the Hyacinth Bucket Theory.

Anyway, I am loving Requiem for a Dream. The prose is top notch. The dialog is realistic and interesting. The characters are sympathetic and vivid. It's too bad everything will end badly for them.

One of the characters - a retired woman named Sara - places all her hopes and dreams in the possibility of getting on a TV game show. Too bad her fridge keeps whispering de-motivating things to her.

Harry - a junky and Sara's son - wants to sell drugs to raise money to open a coffee house where all the cool kids will hang out and watch experimental theater.

Tyrone C. Love - and he "loves nobody by Tyrone C.", well, Tyrone C. loves his smack, too - just wants a life without all the hassles he's had to face as a poor black man on the streets of NYC.

Marion - Harry's girlfriend - just wants to recapture the artistic inspiration she once had which fled her in a heartbreakingly described flashback that made me utter "oh, no" over and over again because, well, I've been there, watching the little spark get extinguished and you have no idea why or where it went.

But the book is called Requiem for a Dream. So I doubt we'll see too many of these dreams come true. It adds a layer of poignancy to watching these characters struggle. It really chills the heart.

I got a phone call last night - at 11PM - that went something like this:

Him:"Oh, I got the wrong number"

WTF? Who talks on the phone like that? If you don't recognize my voice, saying "Hello" and not introducing yourself - will that suddenly make me seem like the very guy for whom you are looking? I doubt it.

Maybe it's just me, though. Whenever I call anyone I always say "Hi, it's Richard" even if it's my mom who will always recognize my voice.

Speaking of which, wouldn't it be cool to have a batch of disposable phone numbers? You could give them to people who you didn't know well enough to trust them not to be psycho stalkers who would call you at all hours, etc. And you could invite all your dland friends to call you one weekend so you could finally put a voice to all that stuff you read about them. w

And I'm starting a new writing project. A collection of unsent letters. Fun, fun!

Reading Requiem for a Dream by Hubery Selby, Jr.

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