February 5th, 2008

Sea dragon

February, the dreariest of months

Man, where did January go? Not that you can tell by looking out the window that it's not still January: it's cold and grey and miserable. And let's hear it for the District line shenanigans yesterday that had a queue of people asking for refunds at Putney Bridge and a fat wad of them buying train tickets at the Putney mainline station yesterday. (There were also rather many of them getting tickets from the transit police at Waterloo: I suspect they'd become impatient and not waited for the queue in favor of a quicker commute.) I do now have my annual season pass, though. :-)

Yesterday was a very quick-paced day at work. I had someone grab me for a "red-issues meeting" before I'd even taken my coat off, and the rest of the day raced by. I felt pretty pleased I managed to not take any cough syrup or decongestants but I had to in the middle of the night last night and I'm really beat today, even though I tried to get to bed early. However, it probably should have been ten o'clock early instead of eleven o'clock early. I'd gone to a meeting after work and even though it wrapped near 8, it took me until 9:30 to get home an dmy energy had long left me. I did mange to pick up a paperback copy of The Prisoner and the Fugitive on my way back, but I didn't really have the energy to read it. But I've got it now: first week of February, next stop on the great Proust highway, current milage 0. It's got to be better than Brideshead Revisted. Why is that supposed to be a classic, anyway? It's incredibly boring.

Not done with this yet

I'm still coughing rather much and it looks like my lungs are going a bit green. That's a sign of bacterial infection and I was hoping I'd knocked this thing, but I could be backsliding. That's not good news. I mean, how long is this going to drag on?

I'm also pretty tired today. Going to bed at 10 has been a really good thing for me, but I can see my bedtime sliding back day after day this week. I can't tell if I'm tired from lack of sleep or if it's cold-induced exhaustion. I was up coughing again last night so I did lose some sleep.

Anyway, it's lunchtime and I'm going to walk up the street and see about getting some various cold medicines (I appear to have run through the lot - and I've actually been at this long enough that I now know what the cheapest brands are I can buy for each of the "effects" I'm seeking). What I really want is a copy of the next Sookie Stackhouse "vampire detective" mystery. Why is she such a hard author to find? I'll be ordering this online if I can't find it by the end of this week.

Saw "Speed the Plow" tonight

In short:
1. I thought I saw Lyle Lovett in the bar.
2. I thought I saw the guy who was in The Big Chill on the stage, and apparently I was right. He is much sexier as a grownup than he was when he was young. It seems like he was in some other movies, too, but I liked him better on stage than in any of them.
3. Mamet can't write female characters.
4. There was no plow.
5. I got dizzy sitting so close to the stage and having a giant head blocking my view of the middle of it for most of the act - somehow combined with the unrelenting, rapid-fire dialogue I felt like I was getting motion sickness. The wine might have played a part in it.
6. I know Laura Michelle Kelly was supposed to be reading out of a really crappy book, but instead it seemed like she was reading a script with some really crappy extened monologue and just not getting how to say it.
7. There was some really funny one-liners in there, but I can't remember any of them now.
8. I really want to see Dirty Little Showtunes and Nick Garrison, apropos of nothing.
9. On the way back, we met some people who said of the show, "Outstanding acting! Great writing! A total standing ovation!" J thought they must not get out much, and I thought they must have been either Kevin Spacey or Jeff Goldblum fans, or both. At any rate, NOT a total standing O at all, but it may improve over time.
10. It's sad to be as excited as I was that there was no intermission and the whole thing was going to be over at 9 PM, but that's the joy of the unshakeable cold (and the husband with a broken foot) for you.