This morning: listening to Mark Eitzel�s Songs of Love whilst cataloging whilst ruminating on the scarcity of resources.

Mr. Eitzel is my ideal person. I develop frequent and problematic crushes on nearly everyone I come in contact with (generally very short-lived), but he is the one human being upon whom I would throw myself, all consequences be damned. And he will be performing locally soon, so I may have my chance. Watch out. Especially if he sings about his blue and gray shirt. Ooh la la.

Michelle Shocked will be here tomorrow evening�not at my house or anything�just, you know, in the area. Singing. I plan to go watch. Though who knows what she�s doing these days�I think she may have gone off the deep end. But I still love her. She still has me to count on, is what I'm saying, in case you or she is at all worried. When I was at the height of my dorkiness (circa 1993), I used the back of a ceiling tile in my dorm room to illustrate her song �When I Grow Up.� I still cringe at what people must have thought. I still wish I had that tile. Good times.

So, my current anxiety has been induced by my beloved bastard of a brother, Oliver, unemployed in San Francisco. He has an environmental law degree from the #1 environmental law school in the country. He�s been waiting tables on and off for the past 3 years in order to fund his expensive political activism. I just sent him nearly all of my money. I�m worried�both for him and for me.

And cataloging. So far: ReMembering Cuba, Our Lady of the Circus, Selected Poems and Prose of Paul Celan (which I have put on request for moi), and the intriguingly titled Global Brain.

Not an exceptional day at all.