Great God, am I tired. I am trying to remember where I am, entry-wise, and my brain isn't able to compute. I know that I wrote Monday's entry, that was about Sunday, but did I write Tuesday's entry about Monday? And what day is it today?

This is what happens when you travel, or at least when I travel and stay up all night and several days become just one. I'm pretty certain that today is Wednesday and yesterday was Tuesday, but that would mean that I was at work yesterday, and that seems faaaar too long ago to be correct.

Okay, my computer states emphatically that it is 10.38p on Wed 3 July, and who am I to argue with technology?

So, yesterday, so very very long ago, I went to work. I think. Okay, it's all coming back to me now, I worked like a beaver yesterday, I got in early, I plowed through the day, I cut a million checks, I matched a million checks, I sent out a million checks, and I had to finish it all in time to get to rehearsal at 8p, which I did not, but I got there at 8.30p.

Man, getting into work early two days in a row kind of sucks rotten eggs, and it takes forever! You know the thing about rush hour? There's tons of traffic! No, seriously, there is! And what takes 40 minutes when one goes into work at a normal time, i.e. 11a, takes an hour and 20 minutes if one is trying to get in at 9a, and therefor you get in at 9.20a. It is just plain wrong in almost every conceivable way.

I'm trying to write this while watching Say Anything all small in the corner of my laptop screen and it's really slowing me down. It's not as though I haven't watched it a hundred times, but I still just stop and watch and enjoy. Can't help it. Poor John Cusack, stuck for all eternity in everyone's minds as Lloyd Dobler, the perfect boyfriend. Who can possibly live up to that?

Anyway. I'm still looking for a boy for my show. I called Carol, as suggested by Ann, but she didn't think that her son could learn the lines. She suggested a friend who has an actor son and who can learn lines and is really smart and loves to act, and I called her, but he's doing Pippin and has rehearsal commitments during our run that he couldn't get out of.

So now I just have the woman who emailed me after seeing one of our postings someplace, and I've basically told her that if she wanted her son to be in my show, that I wold take him, sight-unseen. "Please give me your child! Please!!" I didn't scream, though I wanted to with all of my soul.

If I don't get a kid, I don't know what I will do. I left Moira on child duty while I'm gone, so hopefully she will land him. Actually, though, I know exactly what I will do if I can't find a kid, I will cast a short, young-looking, flat-chested woman, which will only be problematic since Ann is so tiny, and a seven-year-old boy shouldn't so much tower over her.

Rehearsal got out something around 10.30p. It was absolutely nightmarishly hot, and so humid you could carve chunks out of the air like slices of cake. I'm glad that sleeping wasn't an option, because I would not have been able to had I tried with a sick. Staying up meant that I could sit in front of the fan at my desk, and take lovely cool showers before and after dying my hair.

(Watching the In Your Eyes scene, weeping. Not the scene later in the movie when he's holding up the boom box, but the scene in the car after they have sex, and he's shaking.

"Are you shaking?"
"No."
"You're shaking!"
"I don't think so."
"You're cold."
"I don't think I am."
"Then why are you shaking?"
"I think I'm happy.")

I think that I remembered everything, I dyed my hair and bought cat food and took out the trash and washed the dishes (I can live in a dirty house, I just don't want to come home to one), I packed my computer and my DVDs and my camera and film, I did the laundry and packed my clothes and picked out some books.

I left the house at 3.30a. Can someone please explain to me what insane lunatic decided that my taking a 6.30a flight would be a good idea? Who booked this flight? I mean, I am traveling alone, I made all of my plans myself, but I really cannot take responsibility for this flight.

I clearly was in a deranged, psychopathic state, is the only explanation.

However, since I stay up all night when I have a morning flight, leaving the house at 3.30a on no sleep feels a little more normal than leaving at 6.30a on no sleep. At 6.30a, you should have slept, if you are up at 3.30a, nobody expects you to have been asleep already.

Of course, going to the city at 3.30a means a long wait for the van, baby. I figured it would take awhile, but it ended up being something over half an hour. When I sat down, I saw a bus going in the opposite direction and wondered how long it would take for it to get to the end of its route and turn around, but I figured that that would probably be too long.

It was hot, I was tired, it was too dark to read. I started feeling as though the van would never come and the sun would never rise and the season would never change, and it would remain that hot and that dark and I would remain alone, waiting for the van, for the rest of my life.

Give me a break, I was tired. And when it came, it was such a lovely sight.

In the city, it was 4.20a and I stood at the bus stop for the airport busses for a few minutes, before I decided that it was unlikely that they ran at that hour, so I grabbed a cab. He offered me a $25 flat rate, which was cheaper than a meter ride would be, especially since you don't have to tip flat rate.

He told me that the airport busses start running at 5a, so I'm glad that I didn't wait longer than I did. He took a very peculiar route that took much longer than usual, but I figured that he was avoiding the tolls, and hey, it was off-meter, and he knew that my flight was at 6.30a, so I wasn't fearful.

I got to the airport around 4.40a or so, and there was a line of monumental proportions. Billions of people with ten of billions of pieces of luggage and one clerk checking people in. Okay, maybe it was two.

After a really long time, they announced that if anyone was going to Jamaica or the Caribbean to get in a different line. I was hoping for a grand exodus, but there really wasn't. When I got past the first bend, they announced that if we wanted to save time, we could go to curbside check-in, but hey, I'd been waiting in that line for ages, just because curbside check-in was now open, they couldn't expect me to come flying out just because they whistled. I'm not that easy.

Then a woman came and cut the people in the 6a and 6.30a to the front, and I checked in and went to my gate. It's a business shuttle, so there were places to plug in laptops and so on, but I was too tired to utilize them.

Once on the place, I sat down, buckled my seatbelt, and fell completely asleep, waking up when we landed. I never even lifted the middle seat arm or took off my seatbelt or anything, just slept like the dead for an hour.

The main problem with staying up all night, is that two days become one, and you don't know when to stop the entry. But I think I'll stop now.

Today's horoscope:
Time to stand up for what you know is right. You don't have to be pushy, but need to support your ethical principles.

One year ago today:
"Where the fuck is Bloor Street? I no longer believe that there is such a place. They moved it when we weren't looking."

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Last Updated Thur 4 July 00:34:09 2002