Secret Pop

Jun 26, 2004

Shame on me, for it is dawn.

I'm doing it again. Shunning the rest my body requires. Even though I am throttled by the onslaught of a cold I do not wish to have. Thursday was opening night, and now it's smooth sailing, but I'm sitting out in the misty mountain nighttime for hours and hours, sucking on cough drops and then marching out to my car only to seek out the revelry elsewhere. Tonight, a cast member who has known me for a number of years asked if I was off to meet someone. Apparently, it looked like I was. I neither revealed nor rebuked. I suppose I am always off to meet someone. But it isn't always anyone in particular.

I liked the look of the hairband I chose, but I'm not so fond of the vise-like pinching sensation I have been experiencing in my skull. It's time to revert to pajama notions. If it weren't for the inherent rudeness of it, I would call everyone I know and tell them something noteworthy.

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