Toodling along the 16th Street Mall today, I passed store whose open front door boasted a sign with a quartet whose profiled likeness riveted my attention as much as the headline, which I next registered: The Cowboy Junkies, live at the Odin Theater on Colfax, Wednesday July 21st.

I would have thrown myself under a truck if one had been handy. As it was, since I was on an errand for work, I blamed Dot Org, because, you know, I'm rational like that. If I hadn't had to do the errand, I would have remained in a state of blissful ignorance. On the other hand, if I had done the errand last week (today wasn't yet late, just last-minute), I might have found out about the concert before the day after. As it is I've pounded my cranium on available surfaces and felt crotchety.

And not that the errand from work kept me from a personal errand. I decided today that I could wear one of my favorite little dresses that I have not worn for the past two summers because I have been too moosesque. So despite waking up 40 minutes after the alarm would have rung had I set it and thus having only 20 minutes to shower dress and eat, I tried on the dress and took particular care with my hair (and bought a bagel at work) and left the house without earrings. My favorite, near-daily pair were in my bike bag but today I took the bus. No use trying to be pretty without earrings.

So when I skedaddled on my errand, I nipped up to Express and bought three pair, three because I wanted two pair to fill my four piercings and then hey, the third pair was free. And I needed cheering up, what with missing the Timminses last night.

I am particularly fond of this dress. One of the first times I wore it was to a party at Curbstone Press, where I was interning. I told another woman, a stranger to me, "Hey, nice dress," and she thanked me, and then a moment later cracked up as she noticed I wore the same black floral with a dense purple and green pattern. Then three years ago the president of Hateful Inc. looked down the hallway at me and asked, "Have you lost weight?" (yes, or at least inches). And today CoolBoss complimented my collar bones, nicely framed in its wide scoop neck.

We saw "Eyes Wide Shut" last night, so at least we were out instead of sitting around on our elbows all night watching "South Park" while the Junkies played so close. Tuesday we had a good bike ride (for us), an hour and a half. I would like a bike computer: I'd like to make sure my average speed is close to 15 mph. I'd like proper bike shoes, too. My sneakers reek and I'd like to have clips instead of cages on my pedals. Whine whine whine, grasp grasp grasp. I rode to work Wednesday and would have today if I'd set the alarm. As it is I should swim, but I doubt I will.

I'm still agitated from work. Nothing's wrong, it's just extremely hectic as we prepare for our annual Under the Big Top. And hey, if I had done my errand last week, not only would I have had another half hour today but I might have seen the advertisement too. I won't fester about the Junkies for too long. In fact I'll stop now.

"...Elizabeth, agitated and confused, rather knew that she was happy, than felt herself to be so..."

I grabbed Pride and Prejudice off the shelf Tuesday. I'm avoiding The Virgin Suicides. And Waiting for the Barbarians. Currently, the above is my favorite line. Usually my favorite line is "My dearest sister, now do be serious." Sometimes it's "I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours."

Two comparisons of "Eyes Wide Shut" to two favorites of mine. One, that it's the kind of novel (it was based on a novel) that Jane Austen might write after a bad experience with heroin: the seamy underside of a society novel. Two, it's an adult version of "The Wizard of Oz" because their hearts' desire was in their own back yard all along.

Sometimes on days I bus I take my blades to work for my lunch hour. The afternoon bus driver--the one who ignores his turns though he's not new to the route--almost always says something disparaging about them. At this point I ignore him. Also, I have twice biked to work but bussed home, and he demands to know why I don't bike the round trip. Today at Cherry Creek someone put her bike on the rack and got on the bus, but not before he abused her too. I think RTD rotates drivers every three months and hope we get another soon. I freely admit to being antisocial enough that I don't want to know my bus driver.

That's not true. Another regular and I fondly remember Richard from over a year ago. A great smile, friendly, outgoing without being overbearing. If he chatted with you, he could still pay attention to the road--unlike this schmoe. The offset printer we contract with at Dot Org gave us all Christmas cards with gift certificates to Olive Garden. Which was exceedingly generous of him, though I am sure he must know someone somewhere, because I personally didn't give him enough business to deserve a $30 meal. Anyway I regifted the three $10 coupons to Richard in a Christmas card (addressed to "Richard and family" so any possible wife wouldn't get testy), and I'm glad I did because the end of December was the end of his route. He was so pleased, too; the next day he was effusively grateful.

I don't think we have enough space on our account for me to take a daily picture, and that's fine because a) I don't want to and b) I don't know if this camera is a permanent part of the landscape. But anyway, today I came home, shucked off my clothes, plucked out my contact lenses and threw them out (still a difficult concept for me), yanked out my hairpins, pulled on comfortables (a term I gleaned from Swallows and Amazons, meaning what you can wear when your great-aunt isn't around), and set my spectacles on my nose.

Here, I have not rebraided my hair--this morning I braided it high, at the crown, and in this jpeg the braid rests along the top of my head and sticks out like a unicorn horn. If my hair ever gets so long that I can braid it at the nape and still flip the braid up over my head to touch my nose with it, I'll be very happy. I don't think my face is really this long, but I can't ignore those emergent nose-to-lip-corner lines or refute that my eyebrow furrows are permanent.	Vanity, thy name is woman. Yes, I took off my glasses. You can tell by my drooping left eye how tired I am. Also I rebraided my hair. It is very calming. Rosamund Pilcher and Kate Bush both set a mood with women plaiting their hair as a way to soothe themselves.	Golly.See how my face through the lenses is distorted? Glasses make your eyes look smaller. Glasses reflect light and make your eyes harder to see. Glasses are bad. Two-week lenses are healthier for my eyes than two-month or one-year lenses, and my vanity far outweighs my conscience as far as environmental impact and morality of disposal corrective lenses.

After this little photo op, I returned to the Mac. I was innocently typing away when DMB called. Her newish boyfriend has an African Grey named Taz who apparently picks up phrases after just a few repetitions (unlike my Australian gray featherduster here who seems quite content with his dozen words and phrases). Taz has been saying "Hi Richie" for a few weeks now and just now has learned "Hi Lisa." I hope that when our two birds meet, Blake feels quite ashamed of himself. Hmm. Or maybe Taz will have crest envy and tail envy and ear-patch envy and racing-stripe envy.

Oh, and I forgot: They Might Be Giants on Friday night was really fun. HAO had told me before that there was an ugly one and less ugly one and as they came onstage, I pegged the keyboardist as the less ugly one. No, she said, he was the icky one. "You forget I have that soft spot for geeks," I reminded her, not meaning the chicken-decapitating carnies but the tall skinny gawky big-nosed palefaces I have known and loved. She considered. "He looks better now." They played "Birdhouse in Your Soul," which was the one song I reeeeally wanted to hear:

"I'm your only friend I'm not your only friend but I'm your little glowing friend but really I'm not actually a friend but I am blue canary in the outlet by the lightswitch who watches over you...."

Also from Flood they played "Istanbul," "Particle Man," and "Racist Friend." Maybe some others. Flood is the only album I know though.

The LoDo Music Festival was sponsored by a phone company. One of the weird little things was a large balloony critter maybe three stories high, lightly vented in its extremities so that the air pumping into it through its feet made it dance rather. It jerked like those little toys--a pedestal with a jointed dog or monkey or clown and you'd make it jerk by pushing up the bottom of the pedestal. Also it was lighted through its feet so it glowed. I told HAO it looked like Burning Man, not that I would know what Burning Man looks like in the flesh, as it were. She had never heard of Burning Man. I told her about the Mojave Phone Booth too. Also I've asked her to tape a documentary someone has made about online journals that's going to be on HBO. This all is a strange obsession.