Sunday, September 01, 2013

Dreamt I was 10 minutes late for the meeting on Tuesday with my boss (actually scheduled) to determine “responsibilities” for the coming month. Feeling guilty, I took a job with me—it was a physical job, in an old-fashioned job jacket—and brought it with me. She said something like, “Is this a good time? Do you have to take care of that job?” I paged through it, feeling slightly ashamed that I hadn’t beforehand. I looked at the instructions in the routing sheet and they didn’t seem unusual. “I don’t think it’s urgently hot,” I said.

The mood in the workplace was self-consciously celebratory and upbeat, like the hallways of the “Fame” school or something. Music played as employees arrived and greeted each other effusively.

At another point I was in a record store browsing through vinyl, and considering buying some though I knew it to be almost obsolete. The selection was limited, with only a few hundred albums in all, but an entire section divider was devoted to Marshall Crenshaw. I found a copy of the Wings’ Greatest Hits and scanned the tracklist, wondering if I should buy it. S. was with me.