Who wasnts some hollandaise?

I do.

I work in a couple of hours. Then I get to spend my Friday night writing a comparison paper on two works by Virgina Woolf. Why not, right?

Back to the hollandaise. A month or so ago I started going out to breakfast on Sunday mornings. It was nice, to sort of start a tradition. I had Eggs Benedict for the first time, no ham, meat is murder you know. They were very good. I drank probably six cups of coffee and got all shaky. I haven't been out for breakfast on Sundays for a while now. I miss it. Breakfast is such a good time, the more company the better.

I woke up this morning with the face of a girl I had a one night stand with in my head. I wonder how she is these days. I have no way of finding out, it is probably better that way.

The dream I had after I woke up the first time, but before I got out of bed, was about myself walking around a mall with a friend from high school. I haven't seen him since his wedding, 6 or 7 years ago. In the dream we talked about how he followed this very standard path to success, and how it was nice, to be able to afford the peacoat and scarf he had on, but that I didn't envy him. What that all means, and where it's going, I have no idea.

It was a nice coat, but it didnt fit me.

What happens in bed stays in bed

I am not going to get out of bed until this is finished.

I haven't been much of a dreamer since I was about 17. Not the sleep time dreams, my teeth fall out while I am stuck in a never ending fall in the middle of Las Vegas at least twice a night, but more the John Lennon type. I don't dream of grandiose changes to the psyche of the American public. I don't hope for the perfect mate to fall out of the bar stool next to me. I try not to make any plans, because I usually sabotage them before the get to pressing. I don't want to be anything.

To an extent, if I want something to happen, I make it happen. But for every night of singalongs around a table of beer I have two nights of working. I know, necessary evil, right? Fuck that. No evil is necessary. If we don't want to do something, we shouldn't. We all make compromises, and I am ok with some of mine, I just don't to be defined by my compromises, or my failures.

It has been said that the Antelope Valley has a large magnetic pull, which not only keeps the meth-heads here, but also pulls back in most long term residents should they happen to move away. It's happened twice for me, once from San Diego and once from Sacramento. I've also been in various stages of planning to move to Ventura, Colorado Springs, Chicago and Minneapolis (the last one is just in my head, which is probably where it will stay).

And all of that ties in with my lack of dreams. My lack of ambition. All of my desire is wrapped up in mostly booze, some making out, and a little music. I can make those three things happen. I can't make anything else work.

I am safe.