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If we are writing at the level of a two-year-old, maybe tummy is acceptable. At the levels of two-and-a-half and up, tummy ought to be banned. --from The Writer's Art, by James J. Kilpatrick |
Tuesday, December 28, 1999 Y2K and More Ramblings When did this become a bi-daily journal? Ah, well. Maybe when my sleeping pattern settles down, I'll get back on track...
Well, I'm taking another shot at getting everything on my List of CDs to Buy Once I Win the Lottery. This time around, the game is Millennium Millions -- so called because it's ushering in the final year of the millennium, I'm sure -- and the jackpot is at least a hundred million bucks. The winning numbers, as randomly selected by a lottery computer earlier tonight, will be 1, 12, 30, 31, 46 and, in the "lower section," 17. As the drawing is taking place on Friday evening, most of my readers will be able to confirm that I've won almost a full day before I find out. Which is a mixed blessing in the Y2K odometer turning over on Friday night. If anything interesting happens, I'm probably not going to know about it until hours later, barring events in earlier time zones. I couldn't watch the ball drop in Times Square even if I wanted to. (Well, if I lived in the area, perhaps. Although it'd be a bit hard to make a case for it being an appropriate Shabbos activity, I think...) On the other hand, in the event of nuclear annihilation, I suppose I'll notice, albeit from the perspective of the afterlife. But I'm not really expecting that to happen, nor any of the other apocalyptic possibilities. I don't even have any food stockpiled or anything.
If you haven't read Pamie's latest, do so. It's entries like these that make me wonder if my landlords can hear me laughing hysterically downstairs. And, if so, what they make of it. (I'm probably just being paranoid, though.)
Work has begun on those end-of-semester poems I promised, and my perfectionist tendencies are kicking in. I'm going to have to force myself to remember that the whole idea was supposed to be that I'd be dashing off some quick bits of doggerel without trying to make each one a masterpiece. 'Cause, otherwise, these things aren't going to be done before Spring Break.
I've been aware of a filling in one of my teeth for the past couple of weeks. No, it doesn't hurt or anything, but I'm a bit concerned, 'cause for me to suddenly be noticing it all the time, something about it must have changed, I figure. And I haven't been to the dentist in a long while... maybe it's time I paid him a call.
I don't have room for a cat; my apartment is just a basement studio without any space to roam around. And it's filled with piles of papers that'd get strewn all over the place if there were a feline around. And a cat would just be a nuisance, anyway. I have to keep reminding myself of this.
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