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Late last night my doorbell rang. I wondered who was ringing my bell around 2am, decided it had to be a drunk, and so I ignored it. Then it rang again. Well, fine, if you want me to answer the door I guess I will tell a drunk to go away. I looked through the peephole and there was a woman who did not look especially drunk. So I opened the door.

“Can I help you?”

“You like movie?”

“Excuse me? No, what, huh, not interested, thanks.”

“I have movie not made yet. I can show.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have DVD!”

“Right, I don’t care.”

“Movie not made yet.”

“Now look, you do not have DVDs of movies not even made yet, think about that!”

“I do! You want? Is cheap?”

“No, this is insane!”

“Is good movies…”

“Let’s say, for a second, that I was willing to consider this. What movies do you have then? That haven’t even been made and yet you have on DVD?”

“Is good time movie.”

“Porn from the future? Deals off. Have a good night. It’s late! Stop ringing bells!”

“Not sexy no no. Good time.”

“Good times … the movie? From the future? It’s 2am! I am not… I’m sorry Ma’am, no thank you, have a nice night.”

And then I closed the door. Of course now I have this nagging Marty McFly feeling that they will make a Good Times: The Movie and I will have needed to see it before it happens to help prevent some catastrophe. I wonder what she was ON.

Sometimes when I’m writing I doubt myself. I fuss and falter and think that maybe this isn’t worth all the punishment I put myself through for it. I was talking to Amal and she hit a bit of the same place and I realized the truth of the matter:

The reality of it all is that we are tapping into the most powerful force there is. We’re telling stories. Inventing reality as we go and showing people their own selves, reflected, distorted and rebuilt. We mainline it at various speeds. And that quicksilver is a dangerous thing, and beautiful. But stories came before fire. They’ll be here after it, too.

… Hell, stories probably invented fire and then the rubes had to catch up with us again.

Sometimes, in the morning, when I sit down to write I get this look on my face. I’m trying to see through the screen, or maybe burn through it with my laser eyes. Whatever works, just to find a way to see into the right words.

It takes concentration, focus, a certain amount of waking-up fully and dedication. The look is serene and skilled. It has been forged by years of … oh who am I kidding I think most mornings when I write I look like this for the first hour or so:

Well, we’re back. Hi. How are you? I come back bringing video of a giant squid filmed. From National Geographic:

“In a brief video from the dive recently obtained by National Geographic News, one of the rarely seen squid loiters above the seafloor in the Gulf of Mexico on November 11, 2007.

The clip—from a Shell oil company ROV (remotely operated vehicle)—arrived after a long, circuitous trip through oil-industry in-boxes and other email accounts.

“Perdido ROV Visitor, What Is It?” the email’s subject line read—Perdido being the name of a Shell-owned drilling site. Located about 200 miles (320 kilometers) off Houston, Texas (Gulf of Mexico map), Perdido is one of the world’s deepest oil and gas developments.

The video clip shows the screen of the ROV’s guidance monitor framed with pulsing inputs of time and positioning data. ”

All right, look. I’m sure you think your wedding was a magical, wonderful time. A time for love and family. A time for growing as people and a coming together of hearts. Your wedding was a great time that will live forever in your heart. It also wasn’t as sweet as the one I was at last night.

I mean, when the wedding book lists, after all of the “Father of the mother of the uncle of the bride” stuff: the Bride of Frankenstein (Elsa Lanchester) you know you’re in something a bit strange. But that was nothing. That was a drop in the bucket of how awesome this could get.

So after the ceremony we head to the reception (being held upstairs from the chapel) and sit at our assigned tables. There’s chatting and some drinking and a slide show running against the wall and everything is fine.

And then the DJ starts up some music. Some hi-hat riff. I look at James. My eyes grow big. Because they’re playing the Shaft theme. We’re told to sit back because we’re going to introduce the bridal party now. From the back of the hall. We turn to the door. And the smoke machine starts.

Yeah, really. The Shaft theme and a smoke machine. That just wins at weddings. But it didn’t stop there!

After the toasts and the dancing and the fun and all of that there was a drag queen show. With a 6′8″ (6′5″, in 3″ heels) drag queen who was just great. Fantastic job. And then more insanity. And then the bride and groom’s last dance was to Brazil.

I mean seriously. This just wins at all weddings pretty much forever.

so yeah that was what I did last night. How’s by you?

Captain Kirk responds to the new movie’s trailer…

So yesterday I had a shitty brain day. It happens. I am, also for the record, a total girl. Or I was yesterday. I was in Rite-Aid and buying some basic household supplies (garbage bags, tissues, ziploc bags, etc) and I was feeling pretty low. So I grabbed a chocolate covered cherry at the counter. I had in my mind a plan to curl up with a good book and the cat and have my little treat.

Which is when I realized I had become Bridget Jones.

Christ. So yeah. There ya go, I don’t hide this crazy shit from you guys. Anyway. I did a bunch of work, instead and then …

All right, fine. And then I went and curled up with my book and my cat and had my chocolate thing. Shut up. Don’t judge me! Don’t look at me! I’m heeeeeeeeeedious!

Not that the plan worked. I couldn’t sleep at all and then I called a friend and had a nerdtastic conversation for far too many hours and then got back to bed and couldn’t sleep still so now I have about two hours of sleep logged, company coming over tonight, a wedding to go tomorrow in Baltimore, and Guilder to blame for it.

I love the NY Post. I truly do. They give in and are such a tabloid-y little rag that you have to adore them. Today, for example, they must have been facing down a slow news day because the 3rd of New York’s big three newspapers ran this front page:

Yes, for seriously. They… for seriously. Damn.

So last night I’m going downtown to get a haircut. And I’m transferring trains at Times Sq. and everything is going fine. I have a headache, mostly due to the cold (I take a few days to adjust) but that’s fine. I have my headphones in and music is blaring away not making the headache worse or better.

And I’m walking and suddenly it is like the bass of the music jumped. And my head hurt worse. And I thought to myself:

It’s like a brass band playing in my head!

And then I got a confused look on my face and I took out my headphones. Which is when I noticed the brass band playing in the station. Yes, sometimes my reality is a Looney Toons production, it would seem.

*sigh*