I wasn’t going to write today, but the gentle light from the setting sun, along with the mild, windless chill, has affected me in such a manner that I wish only to speak of the boundless beauty that the weather can provide. I’m reminded of the spring walks home from Ashley’s house, feeling the cool air through my hair with the pale orange sky above my head. Pure contentment.

Progress on my essays has not been going well. I have spent the last half week on geology, and still have less than two pages done. I wish the terminology wasn’t so market based. Fuck.

I was able to go rock climbing for a second time with Trolley, Cristina, Aaron, Wheaties, Nick, Greg, Amanda, and Simon. It was great to have so many people go at once, so that we could just wonder around and see how other people were doing. I was able to scale three more walls that I wasn’t able to last time, which were all 5.6’s. The tips of my fingers were raw at the end from belaying so much. My forearm strength is currently the first thing to give, so I wasn’t very sore the next day. We headed out to Perkins after and pigged out on good food. What a great fucking time.

I was able to ask Simon about his tongue stud, and he told me that out of all the piercings he’s had (ears and eyebrow), the tongue was the least painful by far, due to the fact that the nerve endings are all on the surface of the tongue. Once the spike goes through the tongue, nothing is felt afterwards. New information that I’ll have to consider.

Tuesday. Brideshead Revisited. Jeremy Irons is one sexy, sexy man.

Dolores has been extra cuddly these last few days, and I’ve been woken up by her turning a few times, before nestling on my legs or stomach. I feel bad that I feel so constricted every time she settles down, causing me to toss and turn. It’s as if itches only come once a cat has found a pillow in your lap.

The weather has been beautiful lately. I’ve always found the briskness of early spring to be indefinably nostalgic. The grey pavement seems to be freshly laid, from the absent snow which so recently covered it. The yellow grass, the cloudless skies, it all seems to be such a poignant sign of the change in season.

I was sitting on Trolley’s sex lounger yesterday in his hot apartment, and I felt a slight draft coming from his window. Trolley’s apartment always seems toasty to me, so it was refreshing to feel a breeze from the outside. It reminded me of this great quote from Moby Dick:

Nothing exists in itself. If you flatter yourself that you are all over comfortable, and have been so a long time, then you cannot be said to be comfortable any more. But if, like Queequeg and me in the bed, the tip of your nose or the crown of your head be slightly chilled, why then, indeed in the general consciousness you feel most delightfully and unmistakably warm. For this reason a sleeping apartment should never be furnished with a fire, which is one of the luxurious discomforts of the rich. For the height of this sort of deliciousness is to have nothing but the blanket between you and your snugness and the cold of the outer air.

I happened to tune into CHUO FM on Sunday at around 11:30 pm when I was testing my alarm clock, and I was fascinated at what I heard. I generally don’t like the radio at all, but this programme had me hooked. A male voice, apparently a co-host, whose host had not showed up, had the show to himself for the hour. The programme was terrible. This person had a decent radio voice, but the things he was talking about, the tricks he used to avoid dead air, everything he did made the show interestingly bad. I had to listen until the end, because of how rarely I experience something so poorly done, yet so public at the same time.

I was lucky enough to discover a group called E.S. Posthumus, and there doesn’t seem to be an official website, or any website for that matter, in which I can find out more information. They seem to be doing well, with songs on soundtracks like Spiderman, Minority Report, and Unfaithful. One of my current favourites is Tikal. I recommended them to Jeff and Nick, since I remember how Jeff was getting into the instrumental stuff right now. He told me that he had a four tier system of knowing whether to keep a song. I should probably try doing that, since I currently have over a gig of songs I haven’t decided whether to keep or not.

The weekend sky was aching orange with the charm of thick falling snow. It felt good to be so warm and in the midst of such cold, with the silence of such visual delight.

The Honest Lawyer on Saturday was good. I have never, ever, tasted better fries. They were dark, crispy, not too thick and not too thin, and salted perfectly. They were even presented well in a cone shaped wrapping in a metal holder, with two dips attached. The atmosphere there was well done, with unique lighting and well arranged tables. The only problem was the music, which was turned up so loud that people couldn’t speak to each other. By the end of the night, I had to take some Chinese herbal throat medicine so that I would still have my voice the next day. I had a better time at Trolley’s place beforehand, when we could actually talk to each other. At one point, the girls ordered a chocolate fondue for dessert, and left about half the pot full of chocolate dip.

Aaron, being the sugar addict that he is, started to drink from the fondue pot. I was left holding my brownie half-covered (which happened to be sweet enough already).

I can’t decide whether I should buy the strings tribute to Tool, Third Eye Open. I really have no idea what to expect, in terms of how good the music will be. I would more readily purchase it if I could walk down to a music store and find it, but it seems rare enough that even Record Runner doesn’t carry it. I also discovered Strung Out on OK Computer, which is a string tribute to my favourite Radiohead album, which I have to consider getting as well.

I also found a song called Les Feuilles Mortes, when sung in French, and Autumn Leaves when sung in English. The English lyrics are alright, but the French sounds much better. The first version I had was by Yves Montand, who sings it perfectly with a great pronunciation, but at the end of the song the audience tries to clap in unison with the beat and fails miserably, ruining the song completely. I was able to find a few other versions as well. The one by Diana Krall is a little too simple to enjoy. One by Edith Piaf is good, and she sings well in both languages, but her vibrato is too shrill. There’s a decent Nat King Cole version, but the old style and poor recording quality don’t bode well for it. There’s even a Miles Davis with John Coltrane version, but unfortunately, it’s missing the lyrics and recognizable melody. An odd version by Paul Mauriat is done with synth and cheezy instrumentals, and is possibly the worst one I’ve heard so far. A good modern one done by Cold Cut has a very electronic feel to it, but lacks the lyrical content that the others have. My favourite version so far is by Sarah Vaughan, where she’s able to sing the jazz babble with precision and grace, while displaying her gigantic vocal range. The first time I heard it, it blew my mind away. I might just end up cutting out the clapping of the audience in Yves Montand version if I can’t find a good one.

I figured out the four peasant build. I LUF IT.

The weather here has been unforgiving.

I need to stop writing for an audience. It feels like I’m not being true to myself, that I can’t say what I want to say. Yet I do, somehow, in some equivocal manner.

The winter is so beautiful. Usually I study better at night, but when it’s winter time, and everything is white, I feel much more motivated during the day. It’s as if God finally realizes that the entire world is shit and covers it with a huge bleached tarp.

I bought Dolly a new toy on the week-end, and she loves it. It’s got a soft ball covered in fur on the end of an elastic string. She’ll try to take the ball where she wants by grabbing it in her jaws, but when the elastic stretches past its limit, the ball will rip out of her mouth and make her go even crazier. She plays with it until she’s tired, then she’ll lay down on the ground below where the ball lies, and just try to bat it with her paws.

I’ve been working on the new layout, and I completely scrapped the metallic idea. Pictures just didn’t seem to fit well in it. I actually have the final design done and created in html format. It allows for a better formatting of content, though it will take me more work. I’m not completely sure if I’m satisfied with it, but it will probably have to do since I generally have little content to work with.

Sometimes I start thinking, and then I realize what a fucking idiot I am, and that thought just sticks in my head. That happened for most of today.

I have to set up two laptops for these high up execs at work. One of them actually made a complaint about me and Aaron to my boss before. It’s hard to work for someone with this kind of history, but somehow I can just grin and bear it. I think that being stoic is something that I’ve learned very well from my childhood. An alarm went off in the building too, and we had to evacuate. My boss asked me if I wanted to get some beer and pizza, but I told him that I had too much work to do. The temptation was almost too great.

I’ve generally been neglecting my eating habits and my sleeping habits, and my schoolwork, even though I half-resolved not to. It’s good to know that no one cares. At least it’s honest. I know that I need much more balance in my life, and I think that it’s something I can achieve. It’s just been so hard with everything going on. Pat thinks that I should take a week off work. After all, it’s the reason why he quit the job in the first place. But he had a high maintenance girlfriend, and I had a negative maintenance one at the time.

There just seems to be so much reason for me to stay awake late at night.