Now that I'm officially half in the shadow world, let's do some blogging upon the miscellany.

Last night turned into a big impromptu Yorkie reunion when I got caught up with Joel at Los Iguanas, and then we went to a Christmas party at D-Coc's place whereupon Jeff, Chris, Brandy, Dave, and Travis were also caught up with. (Awkward sentence!) Travis and I reflected upon how our starring roles in York Film second-year editing assignment fodder (Good Cop Bad Cop and Earthquake, respectively) have made us legends - nay, gods - in our own times, and then we laughed merrily. And boomingly, for that is how gods laugh. And then, perhaps, we poured beer on the floor.

I absented myself from that party, gave up on any chance of slogging across town to the Beaches to party #2 even though that meant taking a drunk dial from Glennardo an hour later while I was at Sarafina's house. Got home around 2:00, wired up like a Christmas tree after doing some serious Blood Red Sky brainfill out on the street with my massive wintertime headphones. And then I must have slept, I suppose. Doesn't really feel like it. I'm beginning to file "sleep" under the same consensus mass hallucination theory that I use to describe rice. Or at least, I'm doing a lot less things by obligation and a lot more by pure functionality. Is that more or less zen? Pfeh.

Work-wise, this has seemed like the longest week ever. There's apparently some psychological effect at work here, because everyone is just done right now, waiting for the end, and most of us aren't even taking next week off so there isn't even actually an end. Sure, Monday will be all Bailey'sed up and hilarious, but still, it'll be officeable. I don't mind so much. I'm only ever really going about one thing anyway, and I can do that anywhere.