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Monday, Aug. 04, 2003 / 7:25 p.m. ~But I Can Remember What it Felt Like~ Jane was yelling at the copier today, end of day, no one left but the two of us, and the copier of course, and I told her she has to treat Big Bertha right, Bert's old, old as the hills, older than the hills. I said she's gotta be twenty, thirty years old, that copier, and I hope I'm joking, but then I started singing "Treat Her Like a Lady", and she laughed, but didn't know the version, started singing some other version, and I was saying, "No, no, no, it's 'Treat her like, got ta, got ta, treat her like'", but she didn't get it still. I vowed to get online and find it, and so I did. Thank you, Google. I even downloaded it from KaZaA. In fact, I'm going to listen to it again. I was way into early '70s soul, when it was the early '70s. I was a soulful white kid. Plus, I listened to AM radio back then, and these songs were hot. Oh, so it's Cornelius Brothers, with Sister Rose. Great song. It reminds me of roller skating - I wonder if they played it at the roller rink where I went as a kid... What year did this song come out? Must check. (1971 - Yes, I lived to roller skate in 1971) It's enough that I went from singing it, or trying to, at the end of the day at work, to getting online and downloading it. Major satisfaction. Oh yeah. Actually, now that I listen to it again, I think it's "Got to, got to treat her like", as opposed to the "Got ta"s I wrote up above. I'm tapped. I have nothing. I've had nothing for days. Or more likely, I have a lot, and it's too much to put into a cohesive diary entry. I think I'm just not feeling like I can put it all together, all the things I feel, and the level of self consciousness varies, fluctuates, is seemingly high lately. Caroline sent me a very cool terra cotta twin cat sculpture, from Bangladesh. Not that she was in Bangladesh, but in a store that sells these items, hand made, fired in above-ground kilns. Sun dried, etc., etc. A gift with meaning, all the way around. Really. Cats. Bangladesh, by hand, cats, did I say cats? It's wonderful. Oh, wait, I could go take a picture and post it, that way I woudn't have to write about how I have so much I feel, but I can't put it into words because it's too much trouble...  There you go. What a nice gift. Everyone needs to send me gifts. I like gifts. I deserve gifts. I should just post my address and wait to see what I get. My neck hurts, shoulders too. I really would like a massage now please. Okay, I'm listening to my Winamp playlist now, Nicola Conte, and I'm back to my light, detached self, I think I can write about TV and stuff now. Last night's "The Restaurant" sucked. It just sucks. Rocco sucks. The waitstaff sucks. Why is a flamboyantly gay man tongueing women in a bar? And why shouldn't a guy who broke his elbow go home and rest? And why should his boss disbelieve him, just because there is no cast? But really, if it were broken, shouldn't there be a cast? And everyone seems to hate the food. What's up with that? Is it going to get better? Why am I watching it? Thank god it's only on one night a week. Why didn't I write in my diary yesterday? I don't know. What did I do yesterday? I don't know. Where am I? Oh, it's not that bad, I'm okay. Yesterday was totally uneventful, and today was much the same. I'm just floating, again. Every so often I recognize that every moment is much as the last, or every day is much as the day before it, or every weekend that I stay inside the entire time is much as the last time. There is a lot of sameness. And I listened to most of "Footsteps in the Dark" at work today, Cat Stevens' Greatest Hits Volume II, and I have this weird thing with his music, it reminds me of a very specific time in my life, and it reminds me of that feeling of being in love, of falling, that sort of adrenalin filled surge of emotion and feeling and turmoil and excitement, and when there are two of you involved, well, yes, it reminds me of Steve. Cat Stevens' entire repertoire. Unfortunately. Shall I link to a Steve entry? I saw that DarrylZer0 linked to this entry, I mean I noticed he added it to his list of favourite entries, and I hadn't noticed before, on Saturday I guess, and I had a hard time reading it, I was embarassed that I wrote it, and it was all over the place, it's not about just Steve, it's about things happening at work too, but it was the beginning of me dredging up all those feelings again, and every single time I listen to Cat Stevens it happens again. Seriously, I almost started crying at work. Not because he and I tried to reconnect, and after more than 20 years people have changed, but because I haven't felt that way, that head over heels in love or lust feeling in so long. I told Q the other day that it's been 4 years since I had an actual boyfriend, and that's not even true, Terrence wasn't really my boyfriend, but one night stands and mad crushes don't count either. I've totally shut myself off, I consciously made an effort not to feel, and not to be felt for, or about. I reached a point where I decided I would not love, I would not have sex, I would not get involved in any of it, ever, really, again, all the while secretly hoping something would happen to turn that all upside down. It's hard to remember what it felt like that one time that I felt the same thing someone else felt, it was simultaneous longing, and fulfillment. I don't think he quite understood, all those years later when I tried to tell him what his memory means to me, but I'm still transported by songs like "Trouble", and "Don't Be Shy", and I have difficulty watching "Harold and Maude", though I've seen it countless times. That's all neither here nor there. I'm listening to Iggy Pop's "The Passenger" now, so who cares, really? There was a major traffic tie-up on the Interstate at lunch, so I bypassed and finally used my Gift Card my 'Secret Santa' gave me last Christmas, at K Mart. $25 off a Pur Water Filtration System for my kitchen faucet. I think I'll have a hard time unscrewing the faucet dealie thingie to get it on, I know I can't undo the one in the shower to install my Shower Massage (which sucks, on account of it provides really amazing orgasms, and great showers too) - do I need a plumber's wrench? Oh, now it's an Oasis cover of "Trouble", not as painful as Cat Stevens' version, but it's awfully nice. Thank you, file sharers breaking all kinds of copyright laws on KaZaA!!! That's it, really, the thoughts are not adhering, or cohering, or coming together as I'd like. It's really hard to write, strangely enough. (Paul Simon's "Peace Like a River"... "...long past the midnight curfew we sat starry eyed, we were satisfied.... and I remember misinformation followed us like a plague, nobody knew from time to time if the plans were changed... you can beat us with wires, you can beat us with chains...") Cost of the War in Iraq
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