There is a large part of me that wants to bury its head in the sand with regard to this whole "must move by month's end" thing. It wants to ignore the very existence of the facts. To this point, it has been winning most of the battles.

I called a couple of potential possibilities for residence yesterday, and left messages. That comprises the extent of my efforts.

There is another part of me, growing, which brims with nervous excitement about the possibilities ahead. The chance to choose my place to live. My place. I want to rise to the occassion and meet the world with open arms. Every day, a new day. Every moment, an opportunity.

I've listened to the new Tori album N times since buying it two days ago. N is greater than three, less than ten. Strange Little Girl emerges as the early favorate, at least when it comes to getting stuck in my head. '97 Bonnie & Clyde is a masterpiece, but triggers shivers in the back of my soul with every listening. Heart of Gold is fun in a wild sort of way. And then there's my old Depeche Mode favorite, Enjoy the Silence. I could go on. Tori is a genius. 'Nuff said.

Watched the borrowed tape of the second episode of Enterprise last night. Cringingly goofy theme music... let's not go there again (-1, Redundant). It was a moderately entertaining hour of television. Nothing I'm gonna get up and shout and rave about, like say, Farscape, or the inspired feeling I got long ago watching early TNG episodes. Competent Star Trek, but nothing groundbreaking. I may watch a little longer, give it a chance. Then again, I may not.

...

Hehe. The banshee avengers sing.

I was thinking about watching Ebert's commentary on Citizen Kane tonight, but it's now getting slightly late. Still, very tempting. I'm such a fiend for commentary tracks.

I watched the Vertigo commentary track this morning before it had to go back to The Video Station, featuring a variety of people involved with the film restoration, as well as those involved with the original production. Film is fragile stuff. Heh. That story, and accompanying visual stylistic treatment, works on so many levels. I think I might become a Hitchcock fan. Have to watch more of his stuff. Yes.

[Bitscape tries to think of more ways to summarize a lot of nothing -- two days spent devoting oneself almost exclusively to laziness, despite the pressing personal matters at hand.]

lol.

Oh God, I think I could use a strong drink right now. Which is exactly why it's probably good that there's none available at the moment. Just me and my Cherry 7-Up.

Make it yours. Seven. Up yours, that is.

[Bitscape suddenly gets another mental image, of a certain borg individual engaging in some totally impure activity with another crew member.]

"A dildo. Never your dildo." Tightening airport security.

Ok, this is degenerating quickly. Free associating non sequiturs galore.

We're bombing Afghanistan! What is one to do?

I'm going to watch Ebert on Citizen Kane now.