Tuesday, July 20, 2004
bring the briquettes.
11:20. on the train. i read a new yorker review of denis leary's new show on UPN.
11: 35. on the train. found out we were skipping 34th street because of a bomb scare. i had just the night before begun to admit that i am actually a tiny bit scared about what's going to happen during the convention.
2:37. folding together cardboard boxes and stuffing them with finger puppets. maybe it's because there's been a marked lack of good music in my cool office--no NPR, even--but increasingly, i begin to feel like being a labourer at a cool place only makes so much difference. i still fold cardboard boxes for a living, and i don't really like it.
3:41. on the phone. my weird almost-agent calls to see if i want to work on denis leary's new show on UPN tomorrow. i'll be a greiving 9/11 widow at a memorial service, and a hottie at a cocktail party. it's just background. the pay is actually fourteen dollars less than i'd make here, for what i'm sure is a longer day's work, but i said yes. it's not folding boxes.
5:18. i hate being predictable. it makes me feel stupid. i always knew i'd be proud of myself for Moving To New York and Following My Dream, but i didn't think it would make me think so often about how nice it would be if a good family and a stable life and a barbecue was enough. because those are things i want right now this minute at 5:18. i'd rather have a film career, and all, but.
11: 35. on the train. found out we were skipping 34th street because of a bomb scare. i had just the night before begun to admit that i am actually a tiny bit scared about what's going to happen during the convention.
2:37. folding together cardboard boxes and stuffing them with finger puppets. maybe it's because there's been a marked lack of good music in my cool office--no NPR, even--but increasingly, i begin to feel like being a labourer at a cool place only makes so much difference. i still fold cardboard boxes for a living, and i don't really like it.
3:41. on the phone. my weird almost-agent calls to see if i want to work on denis leary's new show on UPN tomorrow. i'll be a greiving 9/11 widow at a memorial service, and a hottie at a cocktail party. it's just background. the pay is actually fourteen dollars less than i'd make here, for what i'm sure is a longer day's work, but i said yes. it's not folding boxes.
5:18. i hate being predictable. it makes me feel stupid. i always knew i'd be proud of myself for Moving To New York and Following My Dream, but i didn't think it would make me think so often about how nice it would be if a good family and a stable life and a barbecue was enough. because those are things i want right now this minute at 5:18. i'd rather have a film career, and all, but.
