I'm just a cock-eyed pessimist

We started off the morning at the Pilates studio on 12th and Pine, making plans for five weeks of duets on the Reformers - should be good for my body and my mind, and shadowdaddy's flexibility. Then ... well, I don't know where the sun came from, but suddenly it was really nice out and I felt like going for a walk. So we stopped in the Value Village to look for a new leather coat for me, then went to the Backstage Thrift across the street in search of same. I came out with a little present for m_cobweb and a hungry desire for the Magnetic Field's The Charm Of The Highway Strip album, which the clerk in the store was listening to.

Down the canopied street behind the resevoir we strolled, looking at the pretty red maple leaves on the sidewalk, the new construction in the park, and some kind of drug bust taking place across from the park. We had no problem getting into Charlie's on Broadway, home of Seattle's Best Monte Cristo. I entertained shadowdaddy with tales of my triumphs and sorrows at the con yesterday, he told me about the neighborhood meeting he went to in the morning, the people at the next table talked about politics. I realized I'd never heard people talking so openly about politics in my entire life - on the bus Friday, in the restaurant, in the pizza parlor. It's a very strange time in America - I've seen nothing like it in the twenty or so years I've actually been paying attention.

I realized I was feeling weepy and stressed out, like I just wanted to burst into tears over breakfast. I think I've just worked myself too damn hard the last two months. I've got nothing really to complain about (I thought as I curled up next to shadowdaddy, who was sitting in the booth beside me so as to better watch the people walk by), but I need a little more sleep and a little less pressure. I took my aggression out on the passers-by, providing a cutting fashion analysis as Blue Mohawk with Football Shirt and Worst Advertisement for Nose Rings, Ever crossed my field of vision. I was punished with the infamous Peppering of Powdered Sugar on Black Clothes, exactly what I deserved for being so rude.

We failed to find the album on our way back to the car, and now at 2 PM we're finally back home. shadowdaddy is working on the yard while the weather holds prior to heading to the arena to see the women's basketball team with my brother; I'm considering putting the laundry in the dryer prior to taking a nap. Unfortunately shadowdaddy's uncle is coming back into town for a night tomorrow and I've got rather a lot of housework to do to make the place presentable (and do my homework for Japanese). What I really think I should do tonight is see "Shaun of the Dead," if I could figure out when I could see it; I need a good laugh.

I'm apparently defining myself by What I Own rather than What I Do as I just bought about eight CDs at Easy Street Records. Thankfully they actually sell some used stuff there, too, so I didn't completely break the bank. I am now the proud owner of a very old Magnetic Fields album and a modestly old Air album (the Virgin Suicides soundtrack), fairly new stuff by P.J. Harvey, Laibach, and The Fitness (a local band I think sounds like a female-led Human League); and a pack of musicals for me to sing along with (Fosse, The Pirates of Penzance, and Sweeney Todd).

This combined with the three classical CDs I bought last night (pretty much all 16th century stuff) means that this probably represents a weekend in which I purchased over half of my total music for the entire year. I'm not sure if this means I should be pleased at how little I spend overall or disgusted with myself for indulging with so little restraint this weekend.