reading:
John Bowe (ed): Gig: Americans Talk About Their Jobs
Gail Simone: Birds of Prey
Sarah Vowell: Take the Cannoli
Howard Zinn: People's History of the U.S.
Not in Los Angeles. Am still in Los Altos. Wasn't for a while. Sacramento. Will go back to LA on Tuesday. May go to Berkeley tomorrow. I am on. the. move.
It's 3 AM, and I am not lonely. But I am awake. Funny how that works.
Christmas, in the present-profiteering sense, was awesome. Christmas, in the spending-time-with-de-folks sense, was also awesome. Plus, we went to an outlet mall today, meaning that I am not only returning to LA with Firefly and three episodes of The Muppet Show, but also -- Abre Los Ojos! Wit!
A memory worth jotting down, before I take a crack at this bedtime thing:
Finishing up with my pizza at dinner last night, wandering outside to roam the minimall, entirely consisting of the pizza place and a large Goodwill store. My cousin Sean, freshly discharged from the Navy, joined me in trying on cheap sunglasses and comparing styles and coolness levels. He found an amber-tinted pair bigger than Sputnik. He insisted that I wear them. I insisted that he buy them for me first.
So he got those and three other pairs, and then we went outside into the chill and waited for the other extraneous family members to weary of black polyester skirts and used books for a dollar. Common-Law Uncle Glenn and his cigarette joined us as we hung out, wearing our sunglasses, too cool and too cold for Central California.
Cars roared by. I yearned for my coat. I put on my sunglasses.