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This was my Friday:
Woke up, unfortunately, at 10:30 in the morning; I'd been holding out for noon, but at 10:30 I was up, and by 10:50 I was awake, but it was all okay, because when I flung open the curtains and cracked open the window, I found a rainy cold front had stolen in overnight. *throws arms around the weather*
The wind blew lightly and it drizzled all day. According to plan, I called the salon and made an appointment—the only available appointment for today—for one p.m., and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gjstruthseeker went off to a meeting while I read Viggo/Orlando mpreg, no, REALLY, and then she swung back by and picked me up. The haircut looked good, though frizzing was inevitable on a day like today. We tossed lunch venues around for a minute before lighting on the Indian buffet, and boy was that a good idea. Full of Indian food and contentment, we then wiled away an hour in Barnes & Noble across the street, where Jules picked up New York guidebooks and American Gods (because she wanted a novel, or else she would have gotten David Sedaris) and I bought books and magazines, namely the March Wired, Filter because it had Beck and the Kaiser Chiefs! and one of the cleanest magazine covers I've ever seen, and two essay collections: Thomas Lynch's The Undertaking: Life Studies from the Dismal Trade and A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again by David Foster Wallace. Because I love me some essays. Who's your favorite essayist? And I saved $3.80 on the lot, because for twenty-five bucks I became a Barnes & Noble member today. I somehow expect stock options to come with that.
By then it was ten to four, and Jules drove us back to campus, dropping me off by the gatehouse on Stadium so I could walk down to Turlington and African History. Boring, boring, a quiz and too many notes to even do the crossword. He handed back our midterms: 90. I was free at five and walked home in the wind. Read more fic until Jules woke up from her three-hour nap, and then we headed off to the 8:00 showing of Constantine. Which I liked. Like, a lot. It was a beautiful movie, beautifully done, and it surprised me, several times. ( How so, and other spoilery thoughts. )
silentfire and I talked this afternoon about who might have or should have been cast as John Constantine in place of Keanu Reeves, who is neither blond nor British. I thought first of Mark Valley, Eddie from Keen Eddie, and Ri said Dennis Leary had been kicked around as a possibility, and I think he would have been an interesting choice—though they're both quite unavoidably American, and Dennis Leary aggressively so (see: The Asshole Song). Then I thought of Daniel Craig. I remembered him from the PBS Mystery series The Ice House, but I looked him up on IMDb, and was reminded that he was also in Road to Perdition (and apparently Tomb Raider and Enduring Love, the creepy hot-air balloon movie). I thought of him in The Ice House because he plays a cop there and he's blond, he's British, he's brooding and emotionally closed-off, and possibly alcoholic. Smoking like a chimney would be part of the package, that weary, fuck-the-world attitude. ( Not that I think Keanu Reeves didn't do a good job. )
It was ten-thirty by the time the movie ended (everybody should stay through the end of the credits, by the way) and we sat shivering in the car, debating dinner choices. We settled, unsurprisingly, on Friday's, open late and right across the shopping center. I had fish, Jules had salad the waiter never got right; we talked about how people know when to get married, career choices and what to do with your life, advertising and conspicuous consumption and the way it makes me anxious and uneasy. I'll write that all up, but not tonight. We finished off the night at Maude's with coffee and dominoes. Okay, we really finished off the night with a bunch of IM transfers after we got home, music and pictures of boytouching for Jules, castles and the two of us in Edinburgh and London for me.
At this point sleep is a luscious idea, something to hoard and look forward to, but I can hardly bear to actually get into bed and succumb to it. We've got romping around to do tomorrow.
Woke up, unfortunately, at 10:30 in the morning; I'd been holding out for noon, but at 10:30 I was up, and by 10:50 I was awake, but it was all okay, because when I flung open the curtains and cracked open the window, I found a rainy cold front had stolen in overnight. *throws arms around the weather*
The wind blew lightly and it drizzled all day. According to plan, I called the salon and made an appointment—the only available appointment for today—for one p.m., and
gjstruthseeker went off to a meeting while I read Viggo/Orlando mpreg, no, REALLY, and then she swung back by and picked me up. The haircut looked good, though frizzing was inevitable on a day like today. We tossed lunch venues around for a minute before lighting on the Indian buffet, and boy was that a good idea. Full of Indian food and contentment, we then wiled away an hour in Barnes & Noble across the street, where Jules picked up New York guidebooks and American Gods (because she wanted a novel, or else she would have gotten David Sedaris) and I bought books and magazines, namely the March Wired, Filter because it had Beck and the Kaiser Chiefs! and one of the cleanest magazine covers I've ever seen, and two essay collections: Thomas Lynch's The Undertaking: Life Studies from the Dismal Trade and A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again by David Foster Wallace. Because I love me some essays. Who's your favorite essayist? And I saved $3.80 on the lot, because for twenty-five bucks I became a Barnes & Noble member today. I somehow expect stock options to come with that.By then it was ten to four, and Jules drove us back to campus, dropping me off by the gatehouse on Stadium so I could walk down to Turlington and African History. Boring, boring, a quiz and too many notes to even do the crossword. He handed back our midterms: 90. I was free at five and walked home in the wind. Read more fic until Jules woke up from her three-hour nap, and then we headed off to the 8:00 showing of Constantine. Which I liked. Like, a lot. It was a beautiful movie, beautifully done, and it surprised me, several times. ( How so, and other spoilery thoughts. )
silentfire and I talked this afternoon about who might have or should have been cast as John Constantine in place of Keanu Reeves, who is neither blond nor British. I thought first of Mark Valley, Eddie from Keen Eddie, and Ri said Dennis Leary had been kicked around as a possibility, and I think he would have been an interesting choice—though they're both quite unavoidably American, and Dennis Leary aggressively so (see: The Asshole Song). Then I thought of Daniel Craig. I remembered him from the PBS Mystery series The Ice House, but I looked him up on IMDb, and was reminded that he was also in Road to Perdition (and apparently Tomb Raider and Enduring Love, the creepy hot-air balloon movie). I thought of him in The Ice House because he plays a cop there and he's blond, he's British, he's brooding and emotionally closed-off, and possibly alcoholic. Smoking like a chimney would be part of the package, that weary, fuck-the-world attitude. ( Not that I think Keanu Reeves didn't do a good job. )It was ten-thirty by the time the movie ended (everybody should stay through the end of the credits, by the way) and we sat shivering in the car, debating dinner choices. We settled, unsurprisingly, on Friday's, open late and right across the shopping center. I had fish, Jules had salad the waiter never got right; we talked about how people know when to get married, career choices and what to do with your life, advertising and conspicuous consumption and the way it makes me anxious and uneasy. I'll write that all up, but not tonight. We finished off the night at Maude's with coffee and dominoes. Okay, we really finished off the night with a bunch of IM transfers after we got home, music and pictures of boytouching for Jules, castles and the two of us in Edinburgh and London for me.
At this point sleep is a luscious idea, something to hoard and look forward to, but I can hardly bear to actually get into bed and succumb to it. We've got romping around to do tomorrow.