Thumpin' Thursday.

I can't be creative right now. It's just not in me.

My horoscope for this week gives interesting advice. Advice I need right now, despite its hippy-dippy trappings.

Every morning this week, I have woken up around 6:40. My alarm is set for 7:10, so I don't go back to sleep. After the initial burst of energy from waking up, I crash pretty hard and feel exhausted for the rest of the day. It's possibly hormonal bullshit, possibly just my body being stupid once again and reminding me I need to, uh, exercise and stuff. I think my exercise routine should consist of (1) rocking out and (2) dancing to punk rock in my kitchen, because that's about all I can squeeze in while the futon is down and the living room is full of Kevin's music/synth project stuff. My body, I'm sure, disagrees.

Last night, I became the last person on Earth to discover the New Pornographers. (OK, I'm sure some of you out there haven't, either, but you are not trying.) Fucking hell, why did no one tell me? Did you really think the excessive alternative press attention lavished upon them would do the trick? Because let me tell you, it didn't. No, I had to poke around eMusic and feel like trying it out on a whim. Yeah, so, I dig. Reminds me a bit of some poppier Elephant 6 stuff, (some of) which I love. (I don't love Of Montreal. I'm sorry.)

Also in my eMusic wanderings, I downloaded a beautiful song by a guy named Jose Gonzales. I immediately knew I had to share this song with others of a certain temperament and made sure to get the file to Aja. I think my mom might even like this guy. I mean, maybe. She's hard to pin down sometimes. I think she also has some of my Radiohead CDs still and suddenly became a U2 fan over the summer. Not that Mr. Gonzales sounds anything like those bands.

Anyway, back to the early mornings. This kind of insomnia makes my mornings extra slow and my lunches and dinners especially uninspired. I returned to my once-faithful bulghur-spinach-cherry tomato-chickpea-feta-garlic yogurt salad yesterday, only to find my palate dulled (though not by my lunch buddy's delicious Indian leftovers, which are Indian by virtue of heritage and not of restaurant leftovers and always fantastic, despite her humility). Today I was cranky and found myself eating out of Safeway again: crappy "everything" bagel with neufachel cheese and a cup of add-hot-water split pea soup. And the "energy" flavor Vitamin Water, which isn't bad, although it tastes sort of like a less sweet Tang. It failed to make me energetic, however.

For dinner, since Kevin informed me that his office got Indian takeout, I drove over to the Lee's Sandwiches on Calaveras. The bi chay sandwich (veggie baguette) is a decent and inexpensive little meal for someone who would otherwise gorge herself on the remainder of fucking awesome vegan brownies for dinner, though perhaps I should not have ordered the iced mint milk. I don't know exactly what's in that drink, but it's... really fucking sweet. And vaguely fruity. I drank about half of it. Maybe Kevin will try the rest of it, though I doubt he'll have something so obviously non-vegan and sugary.

That is all for today.