Don't you know God is Pooh Bear?

-*cough*-   -*cough*-

Seriously.  Enough.  I'm tired. 

Maybe it's working out my abs, though.

I think I'll feel fine enough to work out with Mimi. I hope anyway.

I'm supposed to go to a fairly important (to me, even) family function this weekend, but I think I am going to be responsible and play the sick card.  Even if I am feeling perfect I've got so much to catch up on.  Not so much work, but home. I need to do laundry.  Change my bed linens.  Give the bathroom a good scrub.  I'd like to get my back bed ready for spring planting.  I'd like to sleep a lot.  I'd like to work out plenty.

It seemed to be a down, low-energy sort of day for a lot of people.  Maybe it's the stars.  Maybe they'll realign tomorrow.

I watched Howl with James Franco tonight . Well, he was in the movie.  He wasn't sitting next to me.  Though that would've been cool.

I thought it was going to be more of a biopic, rather than a docu-drama on the poem with a bit about Ginsberg.  When I figured out the slant of the movie--in the first few minutes--I decided I wasn't going to like it.  But I did.  Kinda loved it, actually.

And Jon  Hamm was in it.  I dreamed about him last night.  Dreamed he called me "beautiful and plump."  I was just so happy he didn't think I was "ugly and fat."

And I dreamed a little about my Allie.  A dog of mine that died almost two years ago.  She was the first pet that was mine all mine.  She was my rock for 15 years.  It felt like a visit, and I'm still savoring it.

I might watch Howl again before I send it back.  Which is just as well because I can't find it's mailer.  But I want to re-hear Franco recite it.  And I want to hear again and listen better to some of the things Ginsberg says about writing.

I got into the Beat writers in early high school when I had to look up in the encyclopedia who the hell Jack Keroauc was after hearing the 10,000 Maniacs song about him.  I was hooked instantly.  Wrote my senior research paper on the movement.  Have read all of Kerouac's novels.  All of Ginsberg's poetry.  Read biographies, seen documentaries, am even excited about the in-production (I think) film of On the Road.  Dharma Bums made me want to work for the park service.  And oh, Gary Snyder.  Haven't read him in ages.  Must.

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"Sure, baby, manana." It was always manana. For the next week that was all I heard - manana, a lovely word and one that probably means heaven.
--Jack Kerouac On the Road