then again, maybe it's just a really hard sugar crash

I can’t recall most of last night’s dreams, but this morning I feel sad and drained. I do remember one thing: staring at my own front teeth, which had turned gelatinous and translucent. I think I either need to go to the dentist or get psychoanalyzed.

A good friend and co-worker just emailed me that her grandmother is dying. It seems to me at the moment that this is how the past three days have gone for me. Sorrow piled on top of sorrow — some of it trivial, some of it not; some of it mine, some of it belonging to friends or family. Songs in my head this morning: Richard Thompson's "Shoot Out the Lights" and R.E.M.'s "E-Bow The Letter." Song in my head for the past week: The Shins' "Gone For Good."

My weekend, in reverse date order:


SUNDAY

The boyfriend and I watched the Puppy Bowl (maybe you’ve heard of it?), then the Super Bowl, then the movie Junebug. Junebug was unexceptional, except did you know that Will Oldham acts? It also featured a massively pregnant woman tearfully masturbating with the aid of a smiling snapshot of herself and her husband, which strikes me as pointlessly tragic (and hugely uncomfortable to watch, thanks). The Super Bowl involved football and titty beer commercials and that’s all I have to say about that. The Puppy Bowl? Well, you know what happened there. I’m not going to apologize for it. It was a bold move, and I favored it. No regrets.


SATURDAY

Saturday morning, I received an email from my father saying that my uncle Vendon had died. I met him only once and don’t remember him.

Saturday afternoon, at the request of one of my very best friends, I served a summons and petition for dissolution of marriage to another very good friend. Both of them suggested that I make a silly comment when serving the papers. While in principle I fully support cracking wise in the dark, it didn't feel like a funny moment to me. No difficulty of any kind was involved, and I was glad to do a favor for two people I care about as much as I do these two. But it was a sad errand, and I didn't enjoy it.

Saturday evening, the boyfriend and I watched Broken Flowers. It was Jarmuschey... and sad, and unsatisfying.

Saturday night, I couldn't sleep. All night, every night, trains pass by my apartment, shrieking and shaking the building. There's one with a particularly haunting whistle — reedy, atonal, ephemeral, and deeply unsettling. It half-woke me one night last week and I thought the world was ending. On Saturday, lying awake at 4 a.m., I heard it again. This is the sound I expect to hear at the moment of my death. It won't feel real otherwise.


FRIDAY

After I left work for the day, my friend and co-worker called to tell me there had been an announcement that one of the brothers who owns the company I work for was resigning. It wasn’t a surprise, and I can’t bring myself to care, even though there may be significant consequences for me.

Friday evening, I played pool with the boyfriend and the Idler. It wasn't all bad: apparently my pool game has actually gotten better. But the asstards at the bar were worse than usual. We later watched the movie Thumbsucker, which was mostly boring, except for Keanu Reeves’ role as a trippy dentist. He managed to achieve Kyle-McLachlan-in-a-David-Lynch-film heights of inscrutable woodenness. By the way, what kind of lunatic chooses the Polyphonic Spree to replace Elliott Smith in a film score? Although I must say the Polyphonic Spree did seem to fit better. That was an insult to the movie, and anyone who liked this film should now be sharpening their pens for a strongly worded letter.

After the movie, the three of us discussed how we feel that we've wasted our lives. As usual, I won this little competition handily. They keep trying, but they'll never catch up.