17 September 2003 - 5:14 p.m.

Last night I dreamed I went to Hollins again, and lots of stuff that never happened seemed totally familiar: scraping ice of Jack's windshield with a credit card in the parking lot of Valley View, sitting in film class discussing a Lewton film that doesn't exist in real life (Simone Simon and Karloff take a stab at May-Decmber romance. It doesn't work out. For some reason, horror ensues. What, I ask you, can that mean?)

All the important players were there, and the full May Day moon was

shining in every frame.

Yes, Pittsburgh is beautiful, Pitsburgh is exciting. But damned if it ever produced a dream like that.

In light of yesterday's entry, perhaps it is only fair to mention that my fiance is not the only TV lookalike that ate tortellini in his apartment tonight. Just about everywhere I go, someone asks me if I watch E.R., and here is why:

Fig. 1.: Jenn and Gus (attired like Eugene McCarthy supporters, hence my ugly hippie shawl and the elevated Kaplan Factor)

Fig. 2. Alex Kingston of E.R.

I think I need to e-mail Conan O'Brien and ask him to do a special "If They Mated" just so we can see what our kids will look like.

Oh, the humanity. Not to mention the hair.

What I'm wearing: Blue sleeveless shirt, long navy skirt.

What I'm reading: Somebody else's subwoofer.

What I'm doing after this: Class.