June 2006

excuse me, did you say a.m.?

News flash: I think I have lost my mind. I am meeting Yvonne at the lake at 5:45 tomorrow morning to go running. Yes, you read that correctly. 5:45 in the A.M. That is the time of day that is also known as Fucking Hell O’Clock. If you know me, you do not need me to tell you how much of a morning person I am not. Tune in on Thursday for exciting updates to your morning wake-up show, Katy’s Sunrise Agony.

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the weekend

Saturday I ran about 3 miles at the lake. I’m never quite sure how far I’m going because the mileage markers leave something to be desired. So I just run it by time, which isn’t of course as accurate. But then again, accuracy is not really my goal. It was very humid Saturday morning so I heated up really fast and had a tough time cooling down, and I had to walk some. Tonight I ran a very easy 3 miles (or so — we lost track and I think we probably went a few extra laps) at the gym. Man, I tell you, air conditioning makes all the difference. Saturday night we went to Yvonne’s birthday party at her house. She and Nate cooked dinner (grilled stuff and salads — she makes a mean peanut noodle salad) and made the most massive vat of sangria I’ve ever seen in my life. Seriously, there was probably 10 gallons of the stuff in a huge octagonal glass jar that sat on ice in their sink. It was Yvonne’s Magical Mystery Sangria. It sneaks up on you! I even ate sangria-soaked watermelon. It wasn’t bad! Walker was freaked out at the sight of me again, but I bribed him with a milk-bone and then we were best friends. I think he must have had a bad experience with a tall or curly-haired woman in his former life as a street puppy. Mom and Dad were in town Saturday night but left early Sunday morning, so we didn’t get to see much of them this time. We’re going to Lubbock in August to see Bob graduate and we might go to Houston for a couple of days afterwards just to spend some time with them. This is (knock on wood) their last summer […]

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one night to be confused

I had some really unsettling dreams and nightmares last night. The only one I can remember right now involved a bar or club of some sort, that seemed sort of old-fashioned in its layout, almost like an old-time saloon or brothel with a mirror-backed bar and a set of stairs leading to a balcony where bedrooms were. The atmosphere was bronzed like late afternoon sun; everything in the bar was a shade of brown or bronze or metallic tan, including the people. It was beautiful with a hazy sheen, the people had glistening brown skin and beautiful voices. A fat woman wearing metallic bronze leather pants put her hand down her pants and began to touch herself and make these sensual faces, and everyone started watching her. She was wrapped in a metallic bronze cord that almost seemed like it was a part of her body. I was kind of floating up in the air, just a presence observing the action. And the colors reminded me of ice cream, chocolate and vanilla ice cream with swirls of chocolate fudge. The ice cream became real; I was eating a bowl of ice cream and gazing at the colors. Every time I took a bite, I would see another glimpse of a scene from the bar.

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r.i.p. arcadia theatre

We smelled smoke the minute we stepped out the door from work this afternoon. And as soon as we turned on to Greenville Avenue we saw the huge black billowing plumes. Gloria’s had the television turned on and we watched the Arcadia sign crash through the roof as we drank margaritas (a diet coke for me) and ate tortilla soup. Nate had to drive north and got blocked for a while trying to get around all the hoopla. Brittney recalled several concerts she’d been to there. I don’t remember the last time I was there but it made me sad; the building is — WAS — a beautiful example of historic 1920s architecture. The whole strip of stores and restaurants attached to the theatre burned to the ground tonight. Goodbye, Arcadia Theatre.

Read Morer.i.p. arcadia theatre