2001-06-19 - 10:13 a.m.

After frittering away more than an hour trying to find a trailer for "The Curse of the Jade Scorpion" (why can't IMDB have this? Why do only crappy sites that try to give it to you as a freakin text file have it?) I'm sitting down to do what I should have been doing in the first place.

If there is anything I've come to regret like crazy lately, it's having asked Gus to make sure I'm writing. BECAUSE HE DOES and if you think there's anything more annoying as having your boyfriend check up on you like he's your agent, you are probably right but I don't care because I feel like whining. So there. Or maybe I am annoyed with myself for looking at weddingchannel.com all day, which not only ate up eight hours that could have been productive, and which I am too ashamed to talk to Gus about - or anybody, for that matter. Why am I turning into such a geek about weddings? It's not like I wasnt to plan my own. It's like a morbid obsession. I think I'm fetishizing it because I'm afraid to want to to do it. I've told myself I need to graduate and get a job and be a whole person before I get engaged, and now that I think I've found the right guy, I'm paranoid that my desire to shack up and tie the knot is obvious. AHHH! Everybody my age who is engaged annoys the hell out of me! So why am I acting just like them, whether in the closet or not?

I cannot afford a wedding.

I cannot afford a house. I cannot even afford my apartment. Before I know it, June will be over and I will owe Barbara somethign like $800.

I cannot afford my phone bill. Or, rather, I can, but have chosen not to in order to afford other things, such as cat food, and to save up for my rent.

I cannot afford to travel. I currently owe Gus $$ for two plane tickets, one to Baltimore (from last weekend), and the other to New Hampshire for our post-4th Fourth of July festivities. It's funny how cheap airfares don't seem quite so cheap when you have no cash whatsoever.

I cannot afford a new bedspread. I am sleeping underneath a twin-sized quilt on a queen-sized futon. Five nights out of seven this is, at best, Bohemian, and at worst, not really an issue. Weekends, though, I tend to have a hairy Greek overnight guest. Oh, well, I guess it's cozy, and it forces me to work on my latest quilt (slow goings, though, with 80 hearts to button-hole stitch by hand.)

I cannot afford a sewing machine, hence the many, many months it has taken to get even semi-far on the total love quilt. Alarse.

Vaya con dios, Dick Assman.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: