So I'm here, and I'm curled up in my blanket, listening to my angsty single-girl music and knitting, and I can't help but wish that I had someone here to share this with. Not just by writing and retyping it in a few days, but by being here, on the line at the dawn of the second prequel. It's not loneliness, per se, just a longing for someone with whom to talk, conserve body heat, and smile knowingly in an hour, a day, a year at what beautiful memories were made.

It almost scares me to say it, but I think I wish Joe were here.

Fucker.

The canopy went back up around 1.30, and now everyone is watching TPM on a laptop. I'm tired and irritable and a little cold, and it would seem I've finally reached my fill of other people. I don't know that I'll sleep soon, but I need alone time.

I don't understand Jamey. He was here for the first half hour or so of TPM, during which time he intimated all manners of stuff about us. Eh? I'm trying to keep in mind that he could easily (and apparently is, I suppose) be another undercover geek - normal-looking enough, cool in the normal sense, but undeniably a big, huge, awkward geek beneath it all.

I'm so sick of Wendy.

Sleep!

SLEEP!

I spent three hours curled up on the sidewalk, of which I might've slept an hour or so. Warm enough, but hard. At that point I got up and piddled around for a few hours - Vic was finishing up with the psycho stalker guy, and I got to the phone just as the guy guessed his name. Stood around for a while, then nabbed the foam pad, read a little TTT, and fell asleep for real. I guess I slept for four hours or so, because I wasn't awake when the shift changed. I feel much betterer now, and I'm wondering (knock on wood) if I'm actually starting to get better. Yay!

Now, the guys are playing Risk; Suzanne and Michele are talking staff stuff; and a few other people are just hanging out - ten people total. There were fifteen people last night, surprisingly - I counted but forgot to write it down. I'm in a better mood now, which comes as no great surprise to me - I just felt really isolated last night. Partially my fault for putting on headphones so quickly, but whatever. I'm fine now.

Risk is fucking mesmerizing.

Italian TV is here. They're cool.

$300 in cash donations.

They're interviewing Suzanne now. "Most of us have full-time jobs." Snicker.

Suzanne and Michele just masterminded putting up Alan's Star Wars Fan Parking Only sign.

And George Carlin just walked by.

I love New York.

Have now met [crazy] Dave.

AAAAHHHH.

We're apparently mentioned somewhere in this week's New Yorker, but only Suzanne knows where. They boys are organizing their Epic Duels tournament, which could be highly entertaining.

I'll never understand the weather patterns of 54th St. Ah well.

Spell is here to set up the power and DSL, but there's no setting up going on - just talking. Ben is fucking around with [crazy] Dave; LA Line just called and pissed about the joke on the site (j-o-k-e!). Would seem they're just bitter because they didn't get midnight tickets. Pfft.

[crazy] Dave + [goofy] Mark = NUCLEAR MELTDOWN COMMENCING

Two lightsabers = fire

Aaaaaaah.

"What's the liquor they use to make drinks blue?"
"Blue milk?"
"No. Hey, what's that blue liquor?"
"Listerine?"

This entry interrupted by Ben introducing [crazy] Dave and [goofy] Mark, then the consequent duel to the death (of Dave). I haven't laughed that hard in forfuckingever.

"Always two there are."

"Two dueling douchenozzles." [this, being a Simpsons reference, is something I'm not really familiar with but still find funny as fuck - so if I misspelled it, tough. :p]

And we've decided that shift points should be dependent on the other people present. For instance, any shift that runs the risk of DESTROYING THE EARTH should be worth, like, 100 points. More if it's windy.

Twenty-two minutes of this eighteen-hour shift left. I really cannot wait to get home and clean, finally - I have a feeling I'll feel even better once I've removed three days of city grit from my hair. Then it's to Killing Jar Jar (finally :)) and back to the line.

I went to Toys R Us at three to buy another box of Epic Duels for the tournament. Rather, I went with - Ben bought the game, and James got a kickass shirtless Maul setting (har). The wizard from Midnight Madness was there in regular uniform - amazingly, he's still really annoying even out of costume - but he said they're getting a new toy shipment in a day or two, so hopefully I can pick up Yoda, Royal Guard, and double-saber Anakin then.

[Crazy] Dave seems to have left. Hurrah!

There's seventeen or so people here right now, which seems awfully thin for a Saturday afternoon. [Venom] Jay and Orin apparently never came, which is pretty okay since I'm a vain person who is slightly disgusted at her current disgustingness.

Still really creeped out by Pigpen. Squicky.

It seems like everyone wants me to rack up points out the ass, which is okay but strange. Maybe they just want to ensure some nubile estrogen in the prime seats? I think I may plead with various online people ;) for sponsorship - I'm somehow more comfortable asking them for money than I am with people I've worked with for two years, But, I mean, I've got my merchant Paypal account, and I can write it straight to a check - and if $1 equals one shift point, and I want to make the top ten - why not?

Fuck. Just missed the train because of 1) ATM trouble, and 2) getting stuck behind stupid people. Will therefore probably be late to Killing Jar Jar, as the L runs about once in a NEVER on Saturday nights. Therefore, I'll either 1) make everybody else late, 2) have to pay full price, or 3) miss the show entirely.

Haha. Headlights at 1st Ave.

Haha, think everyone on the train thinks I'm writing about them. Self-centered weirdoes.

So I've determined that the only time I'm resentful about the whole Paige's parents thing is when I'm home. At the Zieg, I'm fine - having a ball with people I feel I've known for ages. It's only when I realize my bed isn't necessarily empty out of choice that I get annoyed. I'm definitely thinking of asking her mom for a donation - it's hardcore, but she seems to get it and like it, and frankly getting money from them would make me less bitter about sleeping out. Almost made the pitch today, but was (unintentionally) foiled by Paige's dad.

Haha, may yet be late. Sigh.

You travel a path on paper
and discover you're in a city
you only thought about before.
- Fanny Howe, from "O'Clock"

Killing Jar Jar was fucking hilarious. It's frightening how true the stereotypes were - they were there in Montreal in '99, and they're here in NYC now. It's also opening my eyes to how insane the line really is - I mean, we've got our tickets, but we're still here? For two weeks? It's not so nuts when we're here - it's only away from this block that the NYLine becomes fanatical.

Eighteen people right now, it seems. Yoda Dave's TV/DVD/stereo is set up for good; the signs are on the easel, Maul and Amidala are blown up, and we mysteriously acquired a Jango Fett standee. Kevin J. Anderson and his wife stopped by and donated a lot; Amit's buying books for him to sign, and the cast of "Friends" is staying at the Rihga. Crazy times.

Momma's donating $50. 'Cause she rocks.