Press Conferencing

I keep having long, involved dreams in which I wander around a vaguely familiar setting (Seattle Center, say) where I just sort of happen to run into everybody I know, and haven't seen in a while. In an especially weird turn in dream the other evening, a movement began -within those personalities inside said dream- to write a play, or movie, or something. Eventually, I met the 'author', who I had spent much of the dream trying to find.
It would seem that my earlier belief that god is a black man might very be incorrect; it's actually a tiny Jewish woman with glasses and braces. It depends on interpretation, like lots of things.

I've made a policy decision regarding what to do when Seattle calls me for a job; unless I've already committed to somebody else, say yes. After this, the "whoever I said 'yes' to first gets me" rule goes into play.
In the most recent version of this dilemma, I said no to Seattle based on what I assumed would come my way on Friday in Portland. This is backward thinking, as I conceive it.
However, I also saved myself from another one of those deals where I run up to Seattle , work my ass off, sleep two hours and make the three hour run back to Portland in order to work the same gig (in this case, Taylor Swift) at Eight in the morning.

The Swiftians I worked with today tell me that they got out of the Key Arena at Three A.M. So two hours sleep...Just like I did between Beyonce and Li'l Wayne, whilst moving, over a month ago. Allowing myself to get run down, I got sick as a dog. Chest sick. Couldn't breathe.
Quit smoking, or more to the point, stopped. In that I didn't have the insanity, the laughing jags and crying jags...No destruction of property, et cetera. Haven't done it for over a month and I don't miss it. I do occasionally still hold my cigarette holder between my teeth, though.

Uh, Senor Discoteca? Where is this Gingerbread House you speak of? Oh, waitaminnit; got it.

George: I have said that social-networking sites are retarded, and I think this remains true. I don't have any actual reason to do it, but I also said the same thing about blogging, once. So who knows? I often have little to no discussion here on topics I think are worth doing a bit of talking about, but I also keep on failing to reach out to other bloggers.
On the other hand, I like these exceedingly long essays that aren't really blog posts. I wouldn't be okay doing them on a Facebook page, I think. I dunno. Send me a link!

I want to attend yer marriage celebration. I believe that I won't be busy that particular week, though the lady may very well be in a new job by then. The only issue here is money. So far, I see a lucrative summer ahead.

On Steens Mountain: That water rights symposium that Bee is attending will last six hours, I believe. I will indeed take that time to go sixty miles south, to the mountain.
Above all else, it is imperative that I reboot my entire system. Something needs to change in my thinking, and I got just the recipe.
For those unfamiliar with Oregon's terrain: the Steens rise suddenly, abruptly from the desert floor. You go from Nevada-like Great Basin low desert to Alpine environs in the course of a relatively short drive. It's weird.

Things I've wanted to blog about for a while, and will: Thomas Friedman's weird editorial a few weeks ago explaining how Mr. Obama failing to repudiate torture as practiced by our government's employees is not only inevitable, but kinda good, if y' think about it.
And: I found a letter from a fan to her famous rock star crush at the Fall Out Boy gig a couple months ago. Letter plus addenda, comin' soon.

Oh, and here's a picture of the Geiser Grand Hotel in Baker City, where we'll be staying on Thursday. I'm psyched.