![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Visitors, books and couch
Aug. 21st, 2004 02:27 pmI need to come up with a word that describes the time between when I wake up and my guests wake up. There are certain emotional states that go with this all-too-familiar timeframe. You'll see what I mean.
My buddy Scudder and his girlfriend are visiting me. Scudder is liberating me of that tiny computer case I can't use (the Antec Aira) and the Sun SparcStation 5 with the extra lead pizza box attachment. In turn, there are two of them and one of me, so I slept on the couch. That suits me very well, actually -- I've always passed out thoroughly on this couch.
They got in around 3:30 am. I took a nap before they arrived (two of them, actually) and we wound up hanging out until 6 am. Then I spent ten or fifteen minutes clearing crap off the couch (most of the stuff I'd had on the mini-shelf in the office wound up there when I was cleaning) and then passed out to a retarded magazine.
I woke up what everyone in America except one friend from college wound consider late -- 1:30 pm. Still, the door to my bedroom was closed. So I washed up, shaved, started reading. I picked up two books last night: Robert Evans' The Kid stays in the Picture, which is the memoir of a Hollywood producer and socialite (aka. Kid Notorious, aka. "Cokey McSnortfuck" as Patton Oswalt lovingly labels him on his new album); and Take Back the Right by Philip Gold, a really good writer with an intriguing, enveloping tale of being spurned by the conservatives he fostered because he's not pro-Empire nor Jesus-loving Apocalypsoid. Either way, I've got reading material.
I'm sitting in the living room waiting for my guests to wake up. For all I know, they're doing the same thing. It's their call to open the bedroom door, thereby starting the day. I'm left in this limbo of being hungry, antsy and unable to leave my guests unattended.
I went through this state often as a kid. I'd be visiting some folks with my parents and only need six or seven hours of sleep. I'd have a book on hand to kill the time. The best reading I ever got done (other than in an empty bathtub in college, the quietest and best-lighted room in the dorm) was during these times. I can't really welcome this kind of time but I don't hate it either. It's just... gnawing.
So yeah, I need a word for this. I'll have to come up with it later, as my guests opened the door around the time I started my second sentence. Yay! Day starts. People are here. I still have a lot of laundry to do. The hang time isn't over, however -- they need to shower.
-back to my book, Dante
My buddy Scudder and his girlfriend are visiting me. Scudder is liberating me of that tiny computer case I can't use (the Antec Aira) and the Sun SparcStation 5 with the extra lead pizza box attachment. In turn, there are two of them and one of me, so I slept on the couch. That suits me very well, actually -- I've always passed out thoroughly on this couch.
They got in around 3:30 am. I took a nap before they arrived (two of them, actually) and we wound up hanging out until 6 am. Then I spent ten or fifteen minutes clearing crap off the couch (most of the stuff I'd had on the mini-shelf in the office wound up there when I was cleaning) and then passed out to a retarded magazine.
I woke up what everyone in America except one friend from college wound consider late -- 1:30 pm. Still, the door to my bedroom was closed. So I washed up, shaved, started reading. I picked up two books last night: Robert Evans' The Kid stays in the Picture, which is the memoir of a Hollywood producer and socialite (aka. Kid Notorious, aka. "Cokey McSnortfuck" as Patton Oswalt lovingly labels him on his new album); and Take Back the Right by Philip Gold, a really good writer with an intriguing, enveloping tale of being spurned by the conservatives he fostered because he's not pro-Empire nor Jesus-loving Apocalypsoid. Either way, I've got reading material.
I'm sitting in the living room waiting for my guests to wake up. For all I know, they're doing the same thing. It's their call to open the bedroom door, thereby starting the day. I'm left in this limbo of being hungry, antsy and unable to leave my guests unattended.
I went through this state often as a kid. I'd be visiting some folks with my parents and only need six or seven hours of sleep. I'd have a book on hand to kill the time. The best reading I ever got done (other than in an empty bathtub in college, the quietest and best-lighted room in the dorm) was during these times. I can't really welcome this kind of time but I don't hate it either. It's just... gnawing.
So yeah, I need a word for this. I'll have to come up with it later, as my guests opened the door around the time I started my second sentence. Yay! Day starts. People are here. I still have a lot of laundry to do. The hang time isn't over, however -- they need to shower.
-back to my book, Dante
