Twelve fifty five. Do I have a blog in me? Well, the Scottish bar interview couldn’t have gone worse. They are months from opening and did not seem interested in hiring me, in part because one of the construction guys suggested that I had walked on their newly poured sidewalk, after that I was lucky to get out of there without an ass kicking – one was certainly intimated. It’s strange how the universe redirects us – maybe bar work is over for me until I own one – Michelle in Seattle suggested via a mailed Dilbert Cartoon that there might be the ownership of an ugly art bar in my future. Thanks M – I’ll scan it at home when I get a chance and post it here.

I spent much of yesterday debugging my nephew’s computer only to have it tank again before bedtime. He deactivated the firewall as he didn’t understand that he was being told that the site he wanted to go to was profligate with spyware etc. so this am was system restore etc. Not his fault – I put a bunch of new software on and didn’t teach him how to use it – my bad.

Sorry, I’ve got nothing more exciting for you. My current substitute domestication is a little on the dull side. Though I did do a day drunk on Monday with Mary over at Blueberry Hill after my shitty interview, a couple pints of Guinness to ease my pervasive sense of failure.

I’ve been cooking creative meals from the random food in my sister’s freezer. I’ve been helping prep for today’s social studies test on the restoration south. Tonight I am the supportive guardian at the band concert. They live in one of these complexes that has constantly audible geese and ducks and lakes and … it feels like an odd collision of California condo and North Woods cabin – On Plastic Pond with Jane Fonda. There is a gym, pool, and sauna which perhaps I’ll take advantage of tomorrow. I’m still on my Gibson jag having read two more of his early books over the weekend – Mona Lisa Smile and Virtual Light.

Vick and Camilla get to New York today. So far their trip has sucked. The tour guides are apparently incompetent and promised destinations like The Pentagon, The Vietnam War Memorial, and the Washington Monument keep getting dropped in favor of shopping at high-end malls that only the tour guides can afford – come children of the third world and gaze not upon our history, but upon the vacuous materialism that has replaced it – when will prodigal Prada return? Did you hear that more people voted for last weeks American Idol competition then voted in the election? Yup, that’s the magic of America. Even if I just perpetuated an urban myth, and I don’t think I did, the believability tells you something.

V and Camilla did see the poignantly cracked Liberty Bell yesterday and also Vick was quite taken with the many bridges of Philadelphia. She is primarily attempting to use Zen knitting to keep from having the suffering fools meltdown. The primary fool I have to suffer is myself so I doubt knitting would help. I alternate between being knotted and in stitches according to a rhythm not quite circadian, strung out in a labor labyrinth waiting for Ariadne's phone call.