Weekend roundup:

Late thursday, I posted the entry about me double checking everything I say in the world, because I find myself unable to recant things and say "Oh I was simply angry" and have them be stricken from the record with the ease that facilitates free expression.

And I got fairly depressed, because I've been through this a couple times. This led to an awful lot of sleeping. And it wasn't until last night that I realized that little I do is going to affect things one way or another, and I need to stop drugging myself into sleep to kill the time between moments that I'm able to get my mind off what I can do to change the outcome of things beyond my control. It's going to kill me and its going to ruin the relationships I still have some type of impact on.

So, bearing that in mind, I decided to start a personal audio log. Partially, this was to test the waters of the Ogg Vorbis sound format. But I decided to keep a log (of sorts) that I wouldn't ever make public, because it would be too big in file size and too, well, me. Unedited, unprocessed, without the opportunity to go in and splice in jokes. Speaking of, I had to resist the urge to call it the Captain's Log. But I started doing that so that I could still document things for my own perusal, but wouldn't have to be held to a double standard of textual concreteness.

That didn't really sit well with me, though, as not too long ago I went through a self censorship loop in this very space. So, the idea was put aside, until Saturday evening, when I decided to be forthright in both. I got pretty sad and contemplative, and began work on the song in the last post. I finished that late at night, and made my first audio log entry. And I thought.

And I got more depressed.

And I thought some more.

And I finally decided for real that I'd do both.

So, welcome to the no-kid-gloves weekend roundup. This is my life. This is my blog. If you aren't interested in being a participant in either, there are many other places on the web that would love to enlarge your penis or give you a great rate on a new mortgage.

Friday
Leslie came up as planned, the dinner turned out a bit too salty, and the super ninja death Habanero sauce turned out to be less lethal than I thought it would be. I suppose it's odd to be disappointed in the fact that my tongue did not atomize in spicy death at the first taste of "Virgin Sacrifice," a super spicy chile sauce I got, but damnit, I had my hopes up.

We played some old games, and we sort of cooperatively got thrashed at a bit of Doom3. Hugo didn't get to save Penelope, because the Elephant ran away too damned fast. And I got my ass beat by the computer in game after game trying to get the first person to really admire the game grid in functional glory. So far I think the closest I've come are Finn thinking it's a neat idea and Evan finding it cool enough to attempt to destroy. Kevin, everyone else seems pretty underwhelmed. I guess Anna thought it was a pretty impressive engineering feat, which counts for something.

Leslie had work at 8am, so it was bedtime for her. I got to try and sleep and carry out a very familiar and very frustrating war in my head.

Saturday

Then there was Saturday, when I did more depression sleeping, ending in the aforementioned series of tough internal battles, and attempted valving of frustration through banging on a keyboard. The night mercifully ended with a crappy limp into the audio logging genre.

That is basically all of Saturday. Pathetic.

Sunday

Once again, I slept rather than deal with my head, though this time it was partially due to the incredibly comfy ass sheets I got on Lindsay's recommendation.

I called Carrie, left a message, which, as I was hanging up, sounded like it got picked up on, and got nothing back.

Then I spent a bunch of time disconnected from the world in Gainesville, and had some delicious dinner. And heard Mick Jagger singing something I'd never heard before.

And it was pretty nice. But I could feel something bad coming.

Monday

It wasn't quite as bad as I thought it was going to be. My intent to make myself available as a shoulder or whatever on what I knew was an important and forecasted day were construed as "bothering."

I have no idea what to say right now.

But I'm done mulling over whether I should say it.

n.p. rollingstoneswaitingonafriend
[time for breakfast]