The subject: fun things I did with organisms in the last few weeks. (EDIT: Not orgasms, organisms).

I'll be getting Quentin Tarrantino on your ass as far as linear plot progression goes.

Immolated ivy grows in patches attended by our moons, burning to encourage peaceful sleep and a warm cast of orange to the night sky. It's at our New Year's celebration where sex is made with ourselves or others, booze is had and we all become Catholics for a day-- arbitarily washing away our failures for a clean break.

This of course leads me to think that a gleaming white porcelain toilet should be New Year's mascot, right up alongside the Christ's Hallmark rabbit and jewish-blue twinkle lights. Besides, for the drinkers, it's also practical.

My plans this year were laid out a week prior to the festivities, which for our triangle of geeky sin was kinda neat. We were going to Selene's place to watch movies, and admire the satanic elven aging of formaldehyde's best client, Dick Clark.

What can you say about watching a series of movies, other than that you watched them? But I'll try to go a step further. Where 'Can't Hardly Wait' is concerned, you either love or depise the amusing conga line of stereotypes and tongue-in-cheek cheekiness--or you want to set it on fire. I love the flick still, gets better every time I see it. By contrast,

'Swingers' was a major disappointment. Here you take the "life just as it is" premise and fail to consider that life ain't like that. Now I'll let them slide on all the guys calling each other "baby"--Los Angeles is filled with fucking oddities and more drugs than there are people in the rest of the Union, sure. However, straight men do not touch like that in public; they do not call as frequently as a girlfriend might, nor visit exclusively to talk about some dude's problem with an old ex; most of all, they don't dedicate themselves to getting a friend laid or in a new relationships. All I'm saying is that for a movie revolving around how to get into a woman's pants, these guys spend a hell of alot of time pawing at each other. I'd say stick to what you're trying to swing into and stick with that, Chucky.

Anyway, the New Year's countdown came and went. ABC's special was atrocious. CBS's special was unforgiveably bad and the bands were worse. Funny enough, though, the mexican station's broadcast was entertaining. We all starred at Dick Clark, made our own theories and then watched something I can't recall.

Selene had decided we'd spend the night, so I took the squishy couch that's about as long as I am. The Captain slept on the floor. Correction, he tried to sleep on the floor, given that he was used to staying up until 5am and I was perfectly fine with falling asleep at 2:30am. He's patient with his insomnia. In times past I would have gone out for a long walk or pondered over keepsakes in the dark.

This time, though, I was the one used to sleeping earlier. For awhile, actually, I admired the soft white strings of christmas lights outside, wreathed around the ivy trellises and obscured by sheer white quilted curtains. It was nostalgic: I could remember meeting Selene back when I was 15, when The Captain and I went to BBS meets back when being online was a local affair, all the way up to the not so timeless but still fun crap the three of us got involved in nowadays.

It was good to have a night off.

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Morning limped through the windows. I was the first one up. Selene had mentioned that she wanted to be woken up with the earliest person, so I knocked. She was casually petting her petitely tiny dog with a dreamy but competent look. I sat down in a green chair by her bed, where we yaked about graduate school for the next hour. On occasion we'd awkwardly bump fingers while petting the dog. We snuggle only when we're both pretty drunk, so things stayed on a laid back level.

Eventually The Captain and Selene's sister woke up. We had a small crisis surrounding one of Selene's other dogs, an aging schnauzer we'll call Lizard. Extremely cute with a moustache to rival some Civil War era colonels, Lizard had dug into one of those small bags of chocolate coins and scarfed the whole lot--even the foil. We scrambled into action. I played fetch the ball with him and discovered that two balls can be a dog's entire world (which isn't far off from most of those middle-aged guys in clubs). Meanwhile, Selene was trying to see how toxic the dose that Lizard had was.

Turns out that you'd need to feed a dog about an ounce of chocolate per pound to get them sick, let alone kill them. So, crisis averted, we sat around while Lizard periodically barfed up gold metal wrapping.

Soon after, we decided to eat at a no-name diner. The food was unusually bad, the portions small and the price pathetic in its viagra wonderment. I think all New Year's Day Breakfasts should be in shitty restaurants, though. Eventually we all parted ways and I went back home to do whatever it is I did.

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I'd be remiss to forget the first day of goodness with the visiting Selene, though.

The Captain and Selene both knew I was at Mt. St. University up until 3pm probably. Unbeknownst to me, Selene had suggested and The Captain confirmed that we should get together at 4pm at Selene's place, since it was only about 30 minutes from the lab.

The trouble was this: it was the 29th. Mt. St. University's application was due on the 30th. Now originally I'd planned on printing up all of my application materials, putting them in a lovely manilla folder and dropping it off by the graduate office. Unfortunately, a new Nazi edict had been passed down from on high, specifically barring anyone from officially working over the Holidays. The holidays included up to January 5th. As I reasoned it, though, surely SOMEONE would be working in the office and could be obliged to just let an application slip into their mail cart. I mean, these people need to process 600 applications in a month.

I had no such luck. The office was lifeless and quiet, like sex in older marriages. Coincidentally enough, I felt kinda fucked myself. I didn't know where the nearest post office was, so I decided to take off early (i.e. 2:30pm), drive down an hour to my home base, send an email to my peeps about my lateness, drop the shit off and drive.

Now, there are some incredibly fucking stupid people who steer 2 ton hulks of speedy metal on the freeway with their knees. I don't know what these people did, but they'd already done it by the time I left to drive. Traffic was absolute shit. I swung into my place at 3:30pm, sent a quick email, re-checked all of my application materials, went to the post-office, re-re-checked my application materials, checked the address and then mailed the manilla envelope. Oh sure I'd forgotten to actually write any of my information on the envelope, but I was sending it in an express overnight envelope that did have my name on it. Surely, I reasoned, an office person would get the overnight parcel and figure things out. (And praise sweet baby Buddha, but they actually did sort things out alright when the staff got back).

So, my application was off but I still had to make it to Selene's. Traffic was not any better in the other direction; this time I blamed old people and damned their collective souls to burn in Hell while watching monster truck ralleys. As 5:30 crept up and 6:00pm bounded over its head with a laugh, I wondered if I'd get any flak from friends. As I finally pulled up against the curb at 6:30, knocked and went inside, though, both of them were sympathetic, with Selene spontaneously sitting down next to me to give a hug and a reassuring hair petting gesture. I miss stuff like that.

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Our evening was straightforward. We first introduced Selene to Thai food at an anonymous little restaurant along Ventura Blvd. Yes, we were free-falling through appetizers and hefty entrees aplenty. Our pre-meal entertainment consisted of this middle-aged white guy asking a series of really dumb questions to one of the younger thai waitresses. You know, the types of questions where he's trying to be flirtacious and get to know the waitress, but she isn't buying it whatsoever? Eventually, I think, they asked the guy to wait some place. He kept coming in and out for some reason. Even I felt embarassed for the fuck.

After dinner we swung down to the Encino Laemmle to see the 'Triplets of Belleview'. The theatrical trailer was amazing and the reviews equally thrilled about the film. As I was sitting there and watching it, though, I was not at all impressed. The movie just plodded along at this excruciatingly slow pace. It had some interesting surprises that only the French or some Japanese hooked on meth could dream of, but overall I felt like I'd wasted an evening recommending the thing to Selene and The Captain.

The evening basically ended after that, with us dropping by Selene's to pick up stuff and say goodbye. I awkwardly tried kissing Selene on the cheek when I gave her a farewell hug, ending up instead about half an inch above her neck. She made a yummy contented sound and didn't mind being given a small squeeze, though, so I guess my affection doesn't scream discomfort. It's an odd balancing act, trying to find the gap between what I'm comfortable with and what the other person feels is too much.

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Aside from our geek triangle, I've met up with The Captain a few times since then to see movies and have dinner out. The last time was only several days ago when we decided to see 'Girl with a pearl earring'. I confess: I mostly went because it stars Scarlet Johannson. She captivated me in 'Lost in Translation' and put on a repeat performance here. There's something about her manner and face I can't put a finger on, but are touching somehow--this coming from a movie-going cynic.

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*No new photographs or shooting trips; can't be bothered to do either right now.

*The lab is going ok. This week we're moving one type of our rats--the ones infected with that virus which allegedly makes them prone to developing depression. That lot is going to a different building, while we order in new albino rats for another set of studies. Hopefully we'll get started on doing actual research soon.

*I got another email from the primate/human behavior research dude up at U. Wisconsin at Madison, Dr. Canola. He mentioned that we need to wait until early february before the grad. committee gives him money to help pay for my trip over there. In the meantime, he told me my credentials look great and we're a really good match; he also mentioned that he'd pay for my hotel fair; he wants to sign me up for university fellowships; he even quipped some about the other universities I'd applied to. I get the very strong impression this guy wants me to work for him. He's the only prof. who actively talks to me as if he's really eager for me to work with him. Every other prof. either hasn't replied to my "hey, my application is in email" or given me a note about as flaccid and lively as a dead fish or rodent.

*My mother continues to amaze me. She'd promised around Christmas time that she'd help me buy a new computer, since mine is about 4 years old. Just two days ago, we went into Best Buy, earmarked the one I'd researched (and couldn't find a better deal on, ironically), and then paid for it--in full, by debit card. Mom felt thrilled that she could do that. I felt guilty as all Hell that I couldn't help pay for the thing. I sheepishly thanked her and apologized for not being able to help.

So far, the machine is working out very well. Granted, the only thing I've done with it so far is play 'Knights of the Old Republic', but its level of efficiency boggles me. It's a pretty rectangular beast.

*All of my applications have been confirmed as being totally, completely done without being considered late or anything. I'm kinda curious what Stanford and U. Penn. think about me as an applicant, since I've heard very little from either school (except for the dead fish email from the immune system dude at U. Penn.).

*My life sounds alot more complicated and busy than it actually is.

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