Another weird day. The proper term I think is ‘off’ day, but I think people would get that confused with day off so I’ll just stick to weird. And weird it is, weird it was and probably- weird it will be. It didn’t have to be that way but circumstance was out of my control. Last night was mellow, once again with Bill and Juan manning the couch, me playing the role of ‘guy in computer chair’.

We watched Olbermann and Rachel Maddow followed by the Thursday edition of Weekend Update which was 60% good. The Hall and Oates thing maybe would have been funnier 15 years ago. And the debate could have had 6 questions instead of 8, but then what would you cut? It’s a good thing I don’t work on Saturday Night Live. Yeah, it’s a ‘good’ thing.

Bill went to bed and Juan and I watched The Daily Show then I kicked Juan’s butt out and went to bed myself. Hopefully he got home alright. Woke up tried to take my time but somehow wound up getting to work about 10 minutes earlier. I must have stepped into a worm hole somewhere. Got to the office, no one in.

It’s a Friday and the expected number was 5 and eventually the other 4 came in. Me and Vivek on my team. It’s getting weird I tell ya.

In the lobby of the building they play a lot of songs from the 1970’s. This morning I heard Dream Weaver by Gary Wright. It brought me back in a Proustian rush to the edge of puberty back then. No, I’ve never read Proust but I think I get the gist of it. No madelaine for me thanks.

In Search of Lost Time is one of those classics that I will never get around to reading, especially if I have a New Yorker subscription. I did try reading Ulysses by James Jones a few times, but never got past page 48 each time. Don’t ask me what happened in those 48 pages since it was maybe 25 years ago when I had literary ambitions.

Anyway, Dream Weaver was prominent in my memory, and I was dealing with feelings that were unknown to me before that. It was 1976 and puberty was down the road. As I wrestled with what was happening to my body and my mind the radio was on and Dream Weaver is what I will forever associate the adolescent feelings with.

I also remember a specific night when my sister was coming back from Aspen I think late at night and my family went to Newark airport to pick her up. This was before 9/11 when you could still walk right to the gate. It was late for me and I was an emotional wreck. I remember crying when I saw my sister walking towards us.

I was happy to see her definitely but I think I came to the realization today, that I was also crying because she was probably the only person I felt I could talk to at that time, though I never did talk to her about what was going on within me. I couldn’t talk to anyone and since I was in catholic school, sex education was out of the question. So in effect I had no one to talk to, not even the person I was probably closest to.

All that from 3 minutes and 45 seconds.

Seems like a quiet night tonight. Juan is probably in Trenton and Bill is at some rehearsal so he might just stay at his mother’s apartment in Stuyvesant Town. Got the new Mojo and Uncut and the latest New Yorker that Harpy said was very good and once again he’s right, dammit!

This is from BettiCola

And a big round of applause for Connecticut!
California still needs help though, the haters are gaining ground so
NO ON PROPOSITION 8!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yay Connecticut!