ATP, part one
Saturday, March 30, 2002 - 16:47

At long last, here's my review of All Tomorrow's Parties. Was it only two weeks ago? It seems like forever.

This is mostly going to be about me, because I'm the most important person in my life.

It's kind of long, so I've divided it into three parts. Here's part one, and part two and part three are coming:

Okay. It was Friday, March 15, 2002. The Ides of March. I was in mourning for Julius Caesar, and also for the end of that lovely little thing I like to call school.

Wait, back up a couple days. I was expecting visitors for the next week. They were arriving on Saturday, so I'd been trying to clean up for them. On Wednesday, I worked all day on my god damn crappy ass seminar paper. I turned it in at 4:45 (15 minutes early!) and then went home and had a cramp attack. It was so bad I wanted to die. I took some ibuprofen, which kicked in after about 15 or 20 minutes. I was all shakey and pale (it's true, I looked in the mirror). I was also quite sweaty, so I had to take a shower. I was supposed to pick up Mr. Pooh at 5:15, but I didn't leave until maybe 5:20. I called Mr. Pooh and he said he'd meet me at a restaurant, because he was starving.

Mr. Pooh had said, "Uh, there's no gas in the car, so you might have to go to a gas station before you pick me up" (because Mr. Pooh had taken it surfing or climbing the day before). I started the car. It died. (You may recall that this is a new car, so mechanical problems are as yet unlikely.) I cursed, then started the car again. It died. I cursed again, then started it again, then drove off. There are no freaking gas stations near our apartment, so I had to drive about a mile to a gas station. Luckily the car didn't die.

It was very very windy out. The gas pump nozzle sucked ass. It was the kind with the accordian thing on it that you have to keep pushing in. It pissed me off. It was windy. I was late. I was tired. The stupid gas pump clicked off, so I, you know, drove away. Then I saw that the tank was only halfway full. WHY AM I WRITING ABOUT ALL OF THIS? I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING ABOUT FRIDAY NIGHT!

So I got to the restaurant, where Mr. Pooh was waiting with my cold hamburger. No, it wasn't really cold, but he had already finished his.

Then we went home and got into a fight about something else. I can't remember. I was really pissed. He went to bed before we made up.

Then I was supposed to drive to the CAT meeting on Thursday night. I think Mr. Pooh had taken the car to work to go climbing, or maybe he didn't. I don't exactly remember. Anyway, I was still pissed. So that night I went to the CAT meeting, and it took forEVER. I was very tired, but I couldn't leave because I'd given people a ride there. So I didn't get home until 11. I was pissed. Tired and pissed.

The next morning I had to go to a nother CAT meeting. It was kind of annoying because of all the fuckers who think they have to comment about everything.

Right after the CAT meeting, I left to go pick up Mr. Pooh. I was very rushed. I was still tired. I was still kind of mad at Mr. Pooh. I was mad at the CAT people.

So. Okay. Finally we got to UCLA.