Mediocre men of the hour.

So I'm here at the library again on Monday, this time to grab some addresses for packages that I need to send. In the process, I have a bag filled with a variety of things that I should probably use today - blank index cards, a pen, the copy of JONATHAN STRANGE that I'm almost finished with (yay). I've got it in my head that I should either spend the day making some headway in my apartment search or, at least, write something. I really, really think that I'd be better off in the long run if I fucking wrote something, though searching for an apartment is important. (I keep thinking I should do that with James, the future roommate.)

I had a date last week. If I'd not vowed to never blog about a date again, I would give details as to the look, shape and feel of the day I spent with the guy - not to be confused with the look, shape and feel of the guy. When there's something to say, I'll say it. In the meantime, I feel like using whatever inspiration comes my way to write something fictional again. I think I'd have more fun getting back to my imagination.

Played an improv show last week, and it felt pretty fantastic to do it. I was mostly comfortable onstage, trusted my scene partners and felt like I was playing to just have fun, which made the audience have fun. I told my stepmom yesterday that I played a Mafia hitman trapped in prison, and she just laughed at the thought of it. (This was cool, for all week I've still managed to think about how much better I could've done if I'd just given my character an accent, a physical affectation or more specifics. The character I played was cool, but, given the chance to play him again, I'd play him far differently.)

I want to just have fun without appearing to worry too much or try too hard.

I like Mondays like this at the library. It feels like pleasant routine.

Book update.

I'm on Chapter 29 of JONATHAN STRANGE AND MR. NORRELL, and it's still rather good.

Shannon Jenkins photography, August 2008.

These were actually taken in August 2008 by my improv classmate/teammate Shannon Jenkins, who is an excellent photographer. I'm very pleased with these and intend to use them throughout the site very soon.

Hey, this book is really good.

I'm now in Chapter Eight of JONATHAN STRANGE, in the audiobook, and it's actually really good. I was right to recommend it to so many people without reading it.

As I've researched the library.

There are all sorts of downloadable audiobooks available to check out from the library. This is fantastic.

The first one I've grabbed to listen to is JONATHAN STRANGE AND MR. NORRELL, a book that I used to recommend and have routinely tried to read but have never been able to finish.

A couple weeks ago, I was able to borrow a friend's audiobook version of Sarah Vowell's ASSASSINATION VACATION, and I found listening to them to be a very useful way to pass time while working.

The first thought I had when I woke up this afternoon.

I turn 32 on Saturday. Isn't that the oldest Jesus ever got? Oh my God, that's as old as Lorelai was during the first episode of GILMORE GIRLS. I am now as old as Lorelai. I could have a 16-year-old daughter. Oh my God, what would I do with a 16-year-old daughter? Would she even know me? Would I prefer a daughter to a son? I guess I would. I mean, I wouldn't know what to teach a 16-year-old boy. Or a 16-year-old girl. (Hell, do I still behave like a 16-year-old?)

Wait, does that mean there's still hope for me? Lorelai didn't find the love of her life on GILMORE GIRLS until she was way older than 32. Awesome.

Another Monday at the library.

A computer glitch is causing the Bank of America website to give me an old balance, rather than a current one - which means that the next couple days are going to be fun for me. I love not knowing exactly how much money I have at my disposal. (I check my balance online to assure myself that the balance I keep is correct, so I have a general idea of how much money I have. But who knows what surprises may be in store?)

Saturday was great. I played an improv show, then went for food with Mauree. Then, we met up with James. And James, Mauree and I went to Fado in Buckhead, which was terrific. Mauree told us stories from her life that I'd never heard before, adding to her charm. I'm so glad that she's my friend.

I keep reading Batman comics while I'm at home. I've not been writing so much. I coped with some emotional stuff this weekend. And I'm seeing the zombie musical at Dad's with Katrina tonight, so that should be fun.

Weird as this may sound, I miss having two jobs. Which is to say that I actually miss having two paychecks, for I was used to having generally regular income, rather than just income every two weeks. (Silly complaint, I guess, but I was used to whatever potential financial crisis seeing some kind of relief every Friday. Now I look at the bank balance, and it freaks me out. And this is while I'm living at home and shouldn't have as many bills. But the cost of gas is killing me.)

Oh well, this will all work out. Heck, there may not even be a problem, and I'm worrying for no reason.

Odd encounter.

At 3 a.m. last night, I walked the Buford town circle. A homeless prostitute approached and propositioned me. We were once in school together. I did not get a "favor." I did not buy her food. She left me at the circle, and I finished my walk and went home.

13 minutes remaining.

I'm writing from the library again. I kinda like the gimmick of this. The timer telling me that I only have a limited time to use the computer because the rest of the rabble - without Internet connection in Gwinnett County - want access to the library computer, as well. The wait for these is slightly less intense than the wait for computers at the airport terminals, those computers that never work or never let you access your e-mail accounts, though you try in vain anyway to get them to work.

I need to go get my oil changed. I have a DVD of UNTRACEABLE that my mom rented from Blockbuster, and I watched it and feel it is my duty to return it to the store. It wasn't a bad movie. It wasn't great. My mom and stepdad like "torture porn" movies. Their favorite is SAW. If you weren't concerned about my upbringing before or uncertain about my potential for long-term relationship success, keep in mind that my mom is depressed and unable to let herself be happy, my stepdad is ignorant and dissatisfied, and they watch "torture porn" movies.

I'm trying to thwart the example they've set me for marriage.

Fun at Gitmo.

At my job, I occasionally edit photos from Guantanamo Bay, and today's photos of the frisbee golf course there made going to prison in Cuba look like lots and lots of fun.

At the library.

I was gonna head to the garage to get my oil changed since it's my day off, but a call to the bank to check on my balance tells me that maybe it'd be better to do that sort of thing on Friday, when I get paid and have money. I was also gonna avoid hanging out at my mom's house tonight - since I finished the cheesy, underwhelming ending of TWILIGHT, that teen vampire romance novel that I was reading - but it looks like I'd be better off staying in and saving some funds. I've got a DVD of THE SEARCHERS to watch on my computer, and I've already picked up the vampire romance's sequel.

But now I'm at the Buford Library, which is now more like a Buford community computer lab that just happens to still have some books, and I figured I could spend some time outside the house here without spending money. To my surprise, they have comics here now, so I picked up BATMAN: YEAR ONE. Also, since I've been watching SLINGS AND ARROWS on Netflix, I assume that I should get around to reading KING LEAR before they start performing KING LEAR in Season Three, for enjoyment of that show deepens so much when you know about the plays the Canadian troupe is performing. (Don't gasp. I've never read KING LEAR, even though my copy of it is in storage.)

So I grabbed one of the computers here, checked my e-mail and have 13 minutes left on my time before the vultures start circling. So I figured I would post a blog from the library, for it's always usually interesting to do that when I'm in Buford.

Except now, until at least July 15, it looks like I'm going to live in Buford again.

Even though the circumstances aren't nearly as bad as I suppose they could be, Buford still sucks.

Don't change your plans.

So last night, a friend of mine told me to meet him at the bookstore so that we could go see IRON MAN. He knew I'd seen it already, but he wanted me there because he thought it'd be more entertaining to spend the evening with me than to be alone.

At 9:15, I showed up at the bookstore as discussed, and he wasn't there. By 10:15, he still was not there.

I left a couple texts, placed a couple more phone calls and then headed to Relapse Theatre, where I'd intended to go before my friend suggested that I change my plans to hang out with him.

The Relapse gang, who had seen me earlier in the week when I'd been forced to vacate my apartment and move in with my mom temporarily, asked me if my week had gotten any better.

I told the gang that, on Tuesday, I was supposed to have wine with someone, but that person forgot. And I told them that a different friend asked me to a movie but didn't show up.

Most of the people said, "Oh, sorry," then looked sideways - trying to find someone to change the subject.

At one point, they tried to suggest that maybe something had happened to my absentee friend.

"Yeah," I said brightly, "maybe he's dead or something."

"Um," a Relapse friend said.

"No, it's OK," I said. "If he's dead, it's probably from a drug overdose, so he probably died happy. You know, one of those moments of pure bliss where it's great up until the moment you realize that you're not breathing."

The Relapse friend was still optimistic.

"I bet death is like that for everyone, not just drug addicts," he said. "You know, like, you get the moment of pure bliss right before you go ..."

"You think so?" I asked. "I always thought my death would be kinda horribly painful."

"Really?"

"Yeah," I said, "I think I'd be screaming right up until I hit the pavement."

Only one person laughed.

I can't let this get to me.

I lost my apartment, moved in with my mother, was asked to drinks by a friend who later forgot that he asked me to drinks and was then abandoned by another friend who told me to meet him. That was last week.

It's a new week.