December 26th, 2002


an actual diary-like entry

There’s just so much to write about that I fear I won’t be able to do it justice. I was originally going to continue my Joe Strummer tribute by printing a poem my missing high school friend Rachael where she holds a conversation with Joe. Well actually, it’s her listening to the first record of "London Calling" and responding like he’s talking directly to her.

But then I dug out my, ahem, high school literary journal and it’s really bad. I think that I remembered it as being great because there was all of five or six of us in high school who knew what it was about. Ah, the secret days of punk . . . gone forever. The best part is that she’s also talking to a batch of freshly caught trout waiting to be gutted in her parent’s kitchen sink.

"I advised the innocent trout
to take male hormones
but they started wearing blue and brown
"Anger can be power!" they cried
and when they spawned
what a stench."

Last Friday we had a going away party for our Hungarian housemate. She’s returning to Eastern Europe for 6-7 months and it’s very sad for us. She started dancing at 6 pm, two hours before any other guests arrived and continued until the party ended well past midnight. And she dances hard too. We even had an hour of Slovakian dance pop where she was doing those crazy leg kicks and everything. She will be missed.

Saturday was the yearly rock show at the Eagle where my co-workers’ bands play and we get all drunk at the leather bar. It was a little subdued this year due to all the drama. Lots of people just didn’t want to go to a work event at all. But DJ Dianarama did a wonderful job preparing everything and we had letchy polaroids taken with our very own special Santa Claus. "Come sit on my North Pole kids" You get the picture.

(Speaking of the Eagle, does anyone out there know why the mirrors over the urinals have been removed? What has become of SOMA when they make it more difficult to check out the other guys at the trough?)

And yesterday after a nice brunch at another cheese worker’s house, I hurried home to cook lasagna and tuna noodle casserole for our 6th annual x-mas day movie watching potluck. This year’s theme was dysfunctional families but we only made it through two movies. I think it was a little too much like going home for x-mas. Much wincing all around. It's never too early to make suggestions for next year
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    Quails - "Your heart's a muscle the size of a fist"