Joie de Vivre

I was walking down the street and in a pure Angela Chase/My So-called Life moment, I thought, "It's like… my life just figured out how to get good."

found a few old-school tidbits from my Quote Wall last night.

Shannon, circa this day 1999: "Prince is way too short to be concerned with devil worship."

Mon Frere, on my decorating sense: "Honey, there's a fine line between funky and geriatric, and those curtains just crossed it." And on my living room, where I refuse to water my plants: "It's like working in the cancer ward of Dana Farber."

In a related story, Mon Frere Shea is a brilliant poet who is in the process of putting his words out in the world in written form for publication. I urge everyone to check out some of his work.

Last night I was sitting at my desk, headphones on, listening to Aqualung. Still Life has a few devastating numbers on it, and I was enjoying "Breaking My Heart Again" when I realized suddenly that there comes a time when you hear a break-up song and you don't remember who you'd apply it to in your own life. I hit that point last night -- something turned over and I was free. I forgot about being an aching nightmare.

On a similar note, #4 from the quote wall, my ex-boyfriend, on our three year relationship: "Monogamy is important. I mean, I don't have time to date more than one person."

Death Cab for Cutie is playing Avalon (!!!!!) in April. It's about time they booked a real venue around here. I'm trying to save money to move and the shitty thing is actually having to say no to shows. I've simply never done that before, even when it meant selling my plasma or my subway pass on the black market. Blonde Redhead and the Frames are playing. The Frames are one of my three favorite live bands ever. I want to stab myself.

This morning I realized sitting at my desk that I was singing "Happiness is a warm gun…"

This French guy at work keeps pointing at the name plate in my cube and calling me, "Joie! Joie de Vivre!" excitedly whenever he walks by.

I've got a lust for life.