Name the lemur who should be working. Yes. That would be me. A much shorter turnaround on an article because of Labor Day, and I have to manage a party tomorrow starting in the early afternoon, so I'm looking at being up much later tonight than I care to. So I should really stop...
1. Constantly going to the fridge to peel the skin off the batch of pudding I just cooked, and
2. Compulsively checking to see if we've lost New Orleans yet (and what a terrible sad thing that could shape up to be; the city may be rendered uninhabitable in a few hours' time, awash in bacteria-laden water and floating coffins), and
3. dusting, and
4. thinking about how strange my love life is getting, full as it is of amazing people who I can't or shouldn't be with for one reason or another, and someday years from now when I'm old and toothless (more toothless) the story of this year is going to seem really funny but right now it's just confusing, and
5. realizing that all the music I've been listening to on my cheap boombox is actually completely different, filtered through a fancy soundcard, and
6. wishing I was out on the playa right now, driving rebar into the ground or playing pool at a table an inch thick in alkali dust with people who can't shoot straight because they've had too many peyote buttons, and
7. thinking about the models' guild audition for which I was a judge this afternoon, where we interviewed a very cool FtM tranny and another boy I nearly had to recuse myself from judging, because the floor was melting around his very feet and I could barely see him through the heat waves--damn pointy-nosed men with glasses, the lot of them. It's just not fair.
Back to the fridge. Are you listening, Snufkina? Puddin'!