More about me...
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2004-06-23 - 9:27 a.m.
Rolled out of bed this morning at 7:40 (barely enough time to not make it to work on time at 8:10) feeling -- as I never have -- that I still had one foot in the dream I was having. Thank you, Sustiva (or "efavirenz" for those of you more pharmaceutically minded). They say it brings on some vivid dreams, which is kind of nice considering I've been rarely remembering my dreams for the last few years.
The nickname "Cinemathéque Rêve" springs to mind as a jazzed-up (read: pretentious?) way to classify this phenomenon... I've been told it doesn't last for more than a couple of weeks, and that seems a shame.
In any case, without the aforementioned Sustiva, it's unlikely I'd be laying claims (at least on a sober worknight) to a single dream that encompassed a performance by Madonna in a work both its stage play AND cinematic versions. [N.B., while the stage play had a certain intimate charm, and the possibility of a stage-door back-alley celebrity sighting, I will always prefer the sweeping panoramas and sense of scale rendered through film.]
Stumbled to the bathroom for some reason thinking of both "anemia" and "anomie", then realizing I couldn't for the life of me remember the difference between Max Weber and Emile Durkheim.
Didn't have time to shave, but lately I'm calling this my "raffish urban European look" (ONLY silently to myself... please! if I ever verbalized that to anyone I'd want them to slap me, oops, I guess I just did, here in print).
Rolled the VW onto the mean streets and freeways of Santa Barbara and decided to crank up Clara Nunes (legendary Sambista) to try to wake my ass up.
Made it to the office, as mentioned, by 8:10, with this morning's dose of Combivir in my pocket, which I summarily downed with a Venti "drip du jour" and cheese danish from Starbucks. So much for keeping up the habit of the instrospective "Meditation for Taking Medicine Within" culled from the "Buddhist Aids Project" website (though I really am trying to apply some of those thoughts every time).
In the end, it's not so bad... and when I think of the "alternative", I'm jumping for joy. Really. REALLY.
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