Laff-A-Lympics
From a BBC website story on an interview with Michael Jackson's father:
'The interview is conducted in a hotel room in the US, and overseen by a man, Majestik Magnificent, who claims to be Michael Jackson's personal magician. Majestik is frequently heard interrupting the interview.'


'Mr Jackson is seen saying his son can do what he likes with his nose and that he would not want to discuss the nose on the BBC.

Majestik then says he will cancel the interview if another question is asked about Michael Jackson's nose.

Theroux asks Mr Jackson if he wishes his son had a partner.

When he describes partner as "boyfriend or girlfriend", Majestik says: "What are you trying to say, that Michael's gay?"

Majestik says the question is disrespectful to Joe Jackson, who later says "we don't believe in gays. I can't stand them." Mr Jackson then calls an end to the interview.'

Ancient Law, Ancient B.S.
My display on ancient law finally went up last Wednesday. I was really proud of it at first. I put up print-outs of images of papyrus fragments of legal documents and relevant books from the collection - on Hammurabi, Socrates, and Justinian.
Since it was the first thing I've done in the four years I've worked here that I was really interested in, my boss, of course, had to find a way to ruin it for me.
She did a spectacular job.
I had the whole story posted here but I have reconsidered it. Sorry to be a tease. I'll tell you all about some night in front of a roaring fire, settled into wing chairs, holding brandy snifters.

Une Reve
I dreamed last night about a place I have dreamed of before. I never realised it until this morning. It is a place that is supposed to be in my hometown, except it doesn't really exist. It's a combination antique/estate sale/junk store and ritzy cafe. Last night, I was riding with my dad and we passed this place, and in a jumble of trashy furniture on the front porch I spy what I thought was a Victor 4-40. We stop, and I look, and it turns out not to be, after all. But there was a 4-3.
Then my mother was suddenly there, and she suggested going inside. We entered through the ritzy cafe part. The shitty coke-head lawyer from my second DWI was there, and my mother started talking to him. I move on into the store part. I spotted a gaggle of Victrolas across the sales floor, but I never could find a way through the maze of furniture to get to them. Somehow I ended up on a balcony that ran around the upper part of the store. It was stacked with furniture. A man tried to hang himself from the balcony but instead just stumbled back against the old furniture. There was blood dribbling out of his mouth and he seemed to be dead anyway.
That's all I remember, and I can't remember anything about the earlier dream(s) about that place.

Not Another Entry Bitching About My Job
OR
Slow and Steady
Before I moved here, I spent the last few months living out of my car (before I sold it to have more money to move here with) and sleeping on various friends' couches. It was a low point.
Now, I have both a car and a cool one-bedroom apartment. I've had four semesters of Greek and about three weeks of Latin. I was accepted into a classical studies program and I've applied to another graduate program as well. I have a Significant Other. I've been swimming laps and lifting weights, gained not a little muscle and the beginnings of abdominals, and pass for someone in their late twenties (or at least someone recently told me they thought I looked about 28). Life is good.
Isn't it?
Yes, you've probably guessed - I'm trying to convince myself.
I think it's working.
* * * * * * *
If this entry sounds boastful, remember what the character Addison DeWitt says in "All About Eve;" "Each of our egos comes equipped with its own little horn. If we don't blow it, who will?"