Jul. 18th, 2004

I have to shake this hangover and go face my ducks (as Kat calls them) now. It is raining, and like last year looks to rain for the entire duration of the gig (bastards brought it from England, I say), and if this year is anything like last year, I'm going to spend most of the time out in the rain doing errands. Please... please let me have some sort of intern to assist me.

The Counselor reunion was weird in a good way and the shirt I bought at Zara is the greatest thing ever.

I'm almost sure it's meant to fit utterly differently than it does actually fit me (I think it's designed to say "breasts!" and on me it says "Small creature who can fuck you up... elegantly", and I can see why it was onsale and no one wanted to deal with it. Need to go to their other locations and see if they have it any other colors, as it's blindingly fantastic. In fact someone needs to get me an audition for the Queen's Company so I can wear it to that and so that they can decide they absolutely adore me and then let me play Tybalt (why is such a cool character in such a shity play?), a sentiment that may make this the most complicated description of a piece of clothing ever.

Next week cool things should come in the mail, including my Republicans for VOldemort t-shirt and my BPAL order. I've also an Amazon order in, but because one of the items hasn't been released yet, it (and the Big Fish DVD) will not be gracing my doorstep until early August.
I will always be stunned by the ability of media and art to be timely on such a variety of scales. I suppose that's what makes stuff good... enough space for the presumption of relevance. It may be why I liked flawed film so much, all the more room for such presumption.

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