for instance, i would like to be going through magazines and tearing out pictures to make envelopes and to smash into paint covered canvases and slip into books and so on and so forth.

or, i would like to be designing the cover of a cd that i have made and i want it to have a special cover. i am going to design it, if i can make my hands do what my head can see, and then i am going to get a block like the ones that niki used when she was in that print-making class, you know the kind that's rubbery? and then i am going to get one of those knife-y deals to carve stuff in the block. and then i am going to cover it with ink and i am going to press it down on the nicest paper i can find. if i have to, i will sit on it for an hour to make the ink-mark stay nicely.

then i am going to make the paper into a cd sleeve. i haven't decided yet if i am going to sew it all together or what, but i have some things i am mentally kicking around.

this is all assuming i can somehow carve what my head can see.

the beginning part, though, is the design part, and i would like to work on it right now. but if i somehow look like i am not working, and believe me, when i was writing her a letter yesterday, people were walking past my cube slower until i finally raised my head to see them sort of half looking at me with their spying-eye and said "i'm taking a break", and they walked away, then there is shitsandwich in the air.

so, now i have to look like i am busy when the amount of work i have had to do today could have been finished by 845.

i know this is a common complaint, but it's the pretending i don't like. i mean, why can't they say "and when you are not doing work, you can look at crap online, so long as you do work as soon as you get it", which is what i do anyway? at least then i would be a lot more happy.

i mean, i work my butt off when i have work to do, so fucking get off my back already, bosses!

ok, in other news, i have a raging headache. i have only had a cup of coffee today. i don't have any money to buy lunch, it's expensive, you know? so i have been having my morning coffee and then BEING TOUGH until i get home. look, i know i could make lunch and bring it, but there is so much drama involved with that, not the least of which is the fact that for some reason lunchbox materials never make it from my car back into the house.

so i am kinda of spinning and cranky and i can't wait until i get into my car so i can play some loud music (i am thinking unwound or maybe, um, i don't know. i left my super-rocking-out cd at lauren's over thanksgiving [ok, it's not SUPER ROCKING OUT, but it has minutemen and mission of burma and drive like jehu and turing machine and WhatNot on it], so unwound is going to have to do) and drive right the FUCK out of oakland and back through the mountains and smoke cigarettes and be surly until i get home.

then i think i will curl up with stuart and stare at the ceiling fan for awhile.

and then i will eat, and everything will be ok.

i feel like taking things apart with my new x-acto knife.

and i want an anatomy book.

and i want to be able to make what i can see in my head.

AND I WANT A FUCKING HAIRCUT.

besides that, i just spent some clockwatching time doing something i want to be doing, giving it to the bossman dland style. awww yeah.

and i am listening to dinah washington. so there.

oh, and i have found the best diary i have read in a really really long time via novembre, the sweetest month.

so thanks for that, doll.

and mr shoebox, all i have to say is

fuck. yes.