thank gaia for that.

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dateline: oZthargic

30 november 1996 11:40 p.m.

The question isn't what I'm doing with my four-day weekend. The question is, when am I waking up? Yesterday I slept in until two. Today, three. If I can make it to sunset tomorrow, I'll be quite content. In short, the less time spent upright, the better. I did get a little exercise, though. Although I wasn't insane enough to try and go shopping yesterday, I couldn't help myself today. I broke down and got the new albums from Vanessa Daou ("Slow to Burn") and Crashtest Dummies ("A Worm's Life"). Even after just one play each, I love them both -- it was debt well spent. (There are a million other things I want to get, but rent is due tomorrow, which of course won't get paid until I get paid on Friday...) Being anywhere in the vicinity of Ala Moana is like being in hell. By the time I actually got out of the automotive swamp that is their parking lot, I was convinced I had the right idea when I vowed to spend all day in bed. The only reason I'm not sleeping now is because Xena is on tonight. It wouldn't be a proper lazy weekend without her. Hey, don't laugh. I claimed another convert at work this week. Right now, "Hercules" is on. A particularly graphic episode at that, strongly reminiscent of "Tremors." This show is just not as hilariously cheesy as Xena -- or as funny, without the sidekick, Aeolus. He hasn't been around for a while, come to think of it. (Well well... guess which local retailer is advertising to reach the "Hercules" demographic? And they've got a web page now, too!) I finally convinced Greg to come out. Now, a while back, he teased me about some "new project" he was getting into. Well, it turns out it wasn't a nine-part symphony dedicated to me after all. A few weeks ago, he sent me a cryptic message. "As Pablo Picasso always said," he wrote, "Amateurs imitate; geniuses steal." And he included an intriguing looking URL. The man went and started his own web journal. Of course, it wouldn't be Greg if there wasn't torture or frustration involved. He wouldn't let me tell anyone about it, and he refused to join the webring. Sadistic. Stubborn. He was always an "s-word" kinda guy. Thus began an arduous, sometimes merciless campaign of exhibitionist evangelism. A long battle of intensive sarcasm and nagging from which only now, finally, I've emerged victorious. I got 'im. Not that it was that hard. Every man has his price, and for an artist, that price is an audience. Now, more than one person can flip through his "Book of Days." He'll be cranky, but trust me, he'll love every minute of it. For those who are counting, there are now five web diarists out there with Hawai`i connections. In addition to my addlebrained self, there's Andrew, Jay, Stacey and now Greg. Jay was right -- it's a small island. Andrew works with my not-ex Nate (who still hasn't written, the jerk), and recently moved with him to Oregon. My gay-ex Greg works with (and frequently complains about) Ryan, who's Jen's boyfriend. Jay hangs out with Stacey (now in California), and meanwhile swear's he's also figured out a secret way he's connected to me. I've got this eerie feeling that one day, we're all going to end up at the same party and not even realize it... until we all complain about it online.