The line starts officially in nine minutes. So v. v. excited. I hope that my money order got there in time, as I would like to get the fifteen or so points that 11-3 and 7-11 entail. However... if I couldn't get the points, I'd stay anyway.

It's happening.

And so it begins. :)

There's - I don't know - thirty? forty? people here. Samantha is giving out samples of the cereal, which I can't eat because of the marshmallows. *sigh* Alan's talking about how much he'll spend on Star Wars by the end of EPIII - $17K(!!!) - and I've decided that my second generation-ness is fortunate, as it means I'll be a student for the duration of the prequels.

The back of my neck is going to fry to a crisp at this rate.

It would seem that Angelina Jolie stalks the NYLine.

I need to buy a chair.

Yeah, right around forty people. The sun is going behind the building across the street, but it still reflects off the black glass of Fisher Bros, giving us (still) plenty of light.

Getting hungry; may need to investigate the local deli scene soon.

I feel really cheesy, sitting here with a bunch of geeks, writing in a journal. I rather wish someone would ask about it, because I'd loooove to be a cornball and tell everyone.

Just got a string of compliments on my shirt (SWC, the one (mostly) without the purple dye) from two of the female line staff whose names I'm sure I'll learn eventually. Apparently there were only fifteen women on the line for TPM, so every time another girl signs up, they celebrate.

Estrogen rocks.

I do believe that Jenna's Slytherin scarf will be on Fox 5 tonight. The camera guy in residence just filmed me knitting for at least two minutes. He made me watch my hands. :o

So far, we've killed Jar Jar and cut off Tim's leg. Also just got interviewed for NYLine TV - in the Chicks shirt - and plugged the journal. Go me, I rock.

...and the NYLine now has an official dude-in-a-box, it seems. V. smart dude-in-a-box.

...and the dude-in-a-box is leaving. I think it has something to do with the fire hydrant he was parked by. Law-abiding bastard.

random ditzy woman on the street: "Are you Princess Leia?" Yes, yes I am. And in reply to your previous question, yes, I am an extra for the movie. Despite the fact that Episode III isn't filming yet and Leia won't even be born yet.

CNNfn walked up behind me.

CNNfn is filming behind me.

Samantha + Will = v. v. kawaii. :)

And the bathroom stalls here have their own sinks. :o

Well, that's five points. Time to check out an apartment I can't afford, buy a chair, grab a blanket, and come back.

Damon and his party can shove it.

Now have a sweet-ass, cheap fold-up chair with a footrest thingie. Should be v. comfy.

Fact of life on the line #1 - when you're late for your shift, the train will take as long as possible to come; and when it does, it's a local.

The sweet-ass, cheap fold-up chair with a footrest thingie is quite possibly the best $20 I've spent since the acquisition of kahlua in December. Am v. v. v. comfy, despite the fact that bright yellow chair will clash horribly with both purple momma blankie and silver foam blankie. Don't frankly care.

By my best count, there are around twenty-five people here now. I don't think Jaime understands quite yet that the actual line is a cooperative, symbolic arrangement, that participation at all (c. 12 hours) will earn a midnight ticket, and that my decision to come here likely nearly every day is out of my won personal insanity, not necessity.

Why isn't the concept so complicated for us? Is it a state-of-mind thing?

Blankie and book time. :)

I swear it doesn't get this cold, this fast in the East Village. I'm cuddled under my purple blanket, wincing every time the wind picks up. Cable-knit is much warmer indoors.

I think I'm gonna hafta track down a Dunkin' Donuts, as a chai sounds really good right now. The real question is whether or not I'm willing to abandon my passingly warm seat to wander in the wind.

I don't really know many of the people here now. Alan and Amit and Christina, and I recognize a few people from earlier, but mostly it's Lauren and books. Which is fine, but this weather is more bearable with company.

Just returned from the Great Hot Beverage Investigation. I was hunting for a Dunkin' Donuts (yeah, we know that) but I apparently hallucinated the one I'd thought I'd seen, so I ended up at the Starbucks at 49th and 7th and got a venti chai, which is almost as craptastically delicious as the DD variety. Curse Stella for introducing me to it; I do believe I should keep count of my hot beverage consumption - unless the weather changes soon, I might as well buy stock in Starbucks.

Chris is throroughly insane. She's singing (and dancing to, while seated) the Veggietales theme. Then again, I'm out here too. ;)

It has been duly noted that my chair bears a striking resemblance to Anakin's speeder (spoiler!). Am considering giving it a paint job in my spare time (spoiler!).

The LA Line just called, Amit says. They're warm. They get visits from celebrities. Bastards. ;)

If anyone else says they'd buy this deal if I published it, I'm publishing it. 160 copies, preordered, prepaid-by-May-15 at $10 each = Lauren's apartment deposit. There's at least that many line members right now. Hmmm.

Sixteen people visible right now. Am I hardcore yet?

I totally forgot - no, just remembered - what I was gonna say, but Alan just stared at me when I raised my footrest. :)

Surprise Surprise should be paying me a commission. I've plugged them at least five times in the 150 minutes I've been here tonight.

"If God meant you to fly sideways up buildings, He'd give you wings. Or name you Watto." - Victor

I'm foreseeing a beautiful rivalry developing between us and the fucking skateboarders.

Anyway, reason for writing a page in 50º weather: I'm honestly not sure whether I prefer the uppity Midtowners who look at us in disgust and ask us, "*scoff* When does the movie come out?" or the uppity Midtowners who walk past us, and ask each other in bewilderment, "Why are they there?"

MWAHAHA. :)

Alan is fucking insane. He's also a conditional asshole.

Alan is cool. O:)

"They forked me. It wasn't consensual. It wasn't pleasant."

Yes, kids, let the corruption begin.

Alan: [looks over Lauren's shoulder] "I saw a bad word."
Lauren: [laughs] "Are you surprised?"
Alan: "No."
Alan: "I say bad words."
Alan: [looks over Lauren's shoulder again]

"I don't sound like Padme, Mark." - Alan

I've concluded that no one is reading this until I 'publish' it, in whatever for that may be. I realize that this could be my ticket to internet stardom - the notes of a sweet young thang enamoured of Star Wars? Bring it, world! - but this once, at least, I'm being principled and keeping my records mine until I see fit to edit out the bits about creepy people who tell me these ten pages are "beautiful." They're not. I like the phrase "beautiful wreck," and maybe that applies here, but this is not beautiful writing. Quirky? Maybe. Odd? Yeah. Monumental? I guess I can aspire. At any rate, I'm sufficiently weirded out.

Almost.

Although setting up a new blog on Movable Type is fucking tempting nonetheless.

For some reason, I keep trying to quote Aragorn - "I know not what strength is in my blood -" (then it trickles out and becomes "- I would've followed you to the end...") - in reference to the line. I still feel almost as though I don't know what I've gotten myself into... but somehow not in a negative way. Some degree of unpredictability, perhaps. Unsure.

I must admit that I've very much looking forward to the graveyard shifts. Once I have my silver blanket (and therefore am warm enough to sleep), I think I'll sleep quite well in my chair. Will try it and see, perhaps stay on nights before exams. Heh.