A couple of notes:
As some of you diehards know already, February 14th is Wet Cleanup's birthday -- this year, she'll be three. Each February 14th, Wet Cleanup's present is a "best of..." page. This year, however, I'm going to let you guys have some of the say, make this kinda democratic or something. Go through the past twelve months, find one or two that you dig, and email me: belong@angelfire.com.
Rock on.
Obviously, I've mostly recovered from my bout with angsty sleep deprivation. I apologize for coming off as such a freak for a couple of days. I tend to get a little loopy when I'm a bit stressed. Rather than, say, drinking my problems away, I fill myself with espresso and stay awake until I can convince myself that my problems are stupid. When you're concentrating on the hallucinatory fur growing on your dresser, yes, your problems become minimal. Sleep deprivation rocks. Sometimes.
I'm pleased to announce also that my computer now has sound on it! Evidently, I've been without sound for TWO YEARS because one of the Bad Housemates (either Peter, Jo, or one of Peter's myriad johns to whom he regularly donated usage of my computer) unchecked a tiny and unobvious box in the volume controls. A good thing: I don't have the money for a new soundcard. So, I now have sound, and I now have Morpheus, and I am now downloading all that new-fangled stuff the kids are listening to these days... I'm kind of stuck on four bands at the moment: Low, Stereolab, Godspeed You Black Emperor, and Tarentel. Whee. Suicide music. For some reason, I cannot get enough of that certain despondency of this type of music. Music that breaks my heart, yet makes me inexplicably giddy...
I think I get off on having a broken heart. I can't explain it. Weird.
Okay, I was going to write a nice long entry, but I'm sidetracked now, and I'm going to head out into the great wide open to see what sort of trouble I can get into...
Warmly,
~Helena*