Still Sick, Will Hack for Porn

The cold continues to get worse. Now my eyes are all swollen up, but I'm at work today after spending yesterday stoned on Theraflu and gin and EmergenC. I took a bunch of Theraflu, put on some Farscape and had a dream that Ben Browder and his family were coming to stay at our house. M. went to the airport to pick them up, and he arrived wearing pink spandex and M. made salmon and cucumber hors d'oeuvres and they were in the refrigerator and our house was very clean and I spent most of the time talking to BB's wife while he made a bunch of phone calls. Dude, Theraflu is crack. I've dreamt about shows, but never about the actors themselves. And I dreamt I was in my bathrobe, which, dude, you'd think even in my dreams I'd want to make a good impression. We also had funky glass furniture and new light. Which is nice. Usually when I dream about our house, it's that M. has moved all my things, or has sold our stuff.

I always have slightly hallucenogenic dreams when I take cold meds, and it always takes me a long time to wake up and figure out they're not real. I was very, very glad to wake up and realize I was not entertaining actors that I do not know in real life in my bathrobe. It seemed to make so much sense in that drugged out state though. And dude, I've always had more of a trip on cold meds than on other drugs. Even on honest to god hallucenigens, I always knew it wasn't real. Cold meds just blur that line.

And clearly, I'm still a little out of it, otherwise I would not have rambled on for this long about nothing. I had a point when I came to post. And now I have no idea what that point was...

Oh, since I've been sick the last two Tuesdays, I watched Love Monkey, this show is setting itself up to be something I could love (even if it is terribly girly). Music refs, music riffs, Jason Priestly puffy (and harassed and married and called puffy by his friends). I like the way that music shapes the show deliberately, and subtlely. The way I totally relate to Tom and his music snobbery, and yet still acknowledge that he's kind of an asshole about it, using it as a way to judge people (ala High Fidelity as well as a fabulous essay by Sarah Vowell). We(or I ) grew up with the idea that music is as important as people, that what you choose to listen to defines your soul. And it's not a bad place to start with as a life theory, but you've gotta grow up and grow out of it at some point. I've had relationships based entirely on music, things I got into that were a TERRIBLE idea because the boy knew what song and what album and gave me hell for assuming that he wouldn't, for my pleasure and surprise. I have frienships sustained by music, cemented by a mutual love of 69 Love Songs. But there's gotta be room for human frailty, for those people who's favorite song really is "We Built This City", or the latest Kelly Clarkson opus.

If this show continues to develop good plots and consistently challenging issues for Tom, I really could fall in love.