I dreamt about my father Friday night, for the first time since he died.
You'd think I'd dream of him as being well, or as I last saw him, but I dreamt of him as he was when he went to the hospital in the first place--weak, but still verbal and laughing and joking and things.

And then I went to the darkroom, and blew up photos of Da and Diane and Rhubarb, and I realized that I was only doing people (and animals) who were dead, so I did some shots of Robyn Hitchcock and Billy Bragg to change that.

Now, I love Tommy Lee Jones very much indeed, in fact if he asked me to marry him the only thing that could stop me would be a simultaneous proposal from Randy Newman (dream large), but who is he hugging in that picture on the cover of Entertainment Weekly, his granddaughter?

He looks 100 and she looks 12, what's the deal with that? Can they not pair him with someone even vaguely in the universe of his generation?

Watched SNL last night. I've never seen Baywatch before, because I have taste, so I've never really seen Pamela Lee. She was pretty funny (especially when she was doing Jenny McCarthy), but what the hell was the deal with her breasts?

Is that what men really like? Really? What's wrong with them, anyway? They didn't look a thing like actual breasts, they looked more like giant sponges or something.

Hardly erotic, I'd say...

The day before yesterday I accidentally burnt Baldrick on the nose with my cigarette. Yesterday I accidentally slammed a drawer on Monty's tail.

What fresh hell for my cats will today bring?

* Yesterday / Index / This Month / Tomorrow *

E-Mail

Logo by Lucy Huntzinger
Background by Ace of Space

This page was written by hand. My hand. Only pussies use HTML editors.
Last Updated Wed 12 August 14:00:09 1998