Man I feel good.

Peter and Sarah came over at noon for pu-er, which they had never had. And these two live a little, so they drank much and many, ate everything and told funny stories. They're Pam on, only in couple form. Which makes me happy to see: two people with similar sensibilities building on each other's personalities. They'll marry soon, and I'm sad to befriend them right before their departure even as I'm totally excited for their adventure. They'll be living in Thailand for six months after marriage. After that they'll return to Vancouver and go to school. I'm happy to know people in Vancouver, although I know that friendships incipient upon the margins of life change are often stunted. We'll see. They're cool people, though.

(They brought these mini-kiwis that you eat like cherries from a stem. The things are odd, addictive little fruit.)

I told them that Andrew and I have stayed at the 2400 a couple of times, and they were ecstatic that we liked it so much. I said we can't get over the real plastic trees and that it was even more endearing after I learned that several scenes from the X-Files were filmed there. They said that's where they consummated their relationship, so they are thinking about staying there on their wedding night.

Peter is my neighbor and Sarah is his Vancouver girlfriend. They've been commuting over the border for years, and after 9/11, when crossing the border became a colossal pain in the ass for every nationality, they decided it was time to stop. They are slowly moving his belongings across the border in the hope that on the actual moving day customs won't hassle him. He told this funny story about waiting in line at the Peace Arch with a futon in the back of his station wagon. At customs, the officer sent him to inspection, and inspection told him he'd have to have the thing fumigated before he could transport it to Canada. He turned around and waited another hour to get back into the U.S., and then he found himself in Blaine looking for a place to dump the futon. An abandoned industrial area outside of town was the perfect opportunity to ditch it, which he did. Then he got back in line and waited another hour to get into Canada. On his way back a couple of days later, he took a detour to the site where he'd left the futon. It was still there, so he picked it up and took it home. They asked me if I knew anyone looking for a futon.

We talked briefly about hearing our neighbor have sex (his apartment is below hers and hers is next to mine): "She's a loud one." Peter said that the night it was crazy loud he couldn't hear whether anybody was with her at all she was so loud, and yet it went on and on. Apparently Peter's parents were in town and sleeping in the closet. (He has a studio.) He crept to the closet door and closed it snugly so they wouldn't wake up.

Ah, I've had much caffeine. I've work to do, but who wants to do work on a Sunday? And if you're me, it's a struggle to work any day of the week. (It's not called Up From Sloth for nothing.) My blood caffeine level is in a sweet zone and I'd rather continue writing about things or go outside for some urban play.

Last night I saw Secretary, which is the feel good S&M movie of the year. Maureen recommended it. Several of Pam's friends also liked it. Angela totally wanted to avoid it, citing a personal moratorium on sex and violence in films. Be we convinced her to try it because we knew it wasn't going to be what she feared it would be. I think she liked it, although, like me, she was disappointed with the unrealistic treatment of mental health issues. All that aside, because there's a lot of disbelief you've got to tuck away, it was a fun romantic comedy with a fairy-tale ending. And, I thought the developing relationship between the two main characters intensified some of the subtle ways power is exchanged in relationships—how dominate and submissive roles can be complementary compulsions which, as in all relationships, are sustained by shifting balances of power.

Also, something about the film got me thinking about how people need structure and how structureless contemporary living can be. I really related to the young woman's relieved acceptance to the structure imposed on her by her employer. Lately, I could really use someone to just telling me what to do, with simple rules: right and wrong and concrete consequences.

We loved James Spader. He's always playing these creepy sadistic asshole guys. He pulls off a masturbation scene with incredible veracity—his face morphing through exquisite micro-expressions as the scene escalated. His counterpart was reserved in similar scenes, I thought. (And a line from Leonard Cohen's "I'm Your Man" made a for a few sultry seconds.)

Afterward, a couple sitting next to Angela asked her if she liked it. She said she did, and they offered that they had seen the film three times. The guy said he couldn't wait for it to be released on tape because seeing it in the theater was getting expensive.

Well, I can feel the euphoria fading to slight nausea—it's time to eat. And I still have to pick up the kit. Besides, Andrew and I will be leaving soon for Ballard. We're going to see Kris play with Manxome Foe.

The show was actually in Crown Hill, at an all-ages dive called the Fiesta Bar. I joked with Andrew that I can't tell my friends I go to places like this—a dank room divided into the of-age and underage by a cord. On one side the kids sit, or stand in front of whatever band is playing, decked out in Hot Topic gear and drinking sodas; on the other side the skeezy smoking hicks of upper Ballard play pool and drink Corona. It's like a treat to the third world and all the bizarre shit that saturates it. I love this kind of thing—I feel like I'm actually living when I regularly traverse diverse scenes.

The cover was insanely high at $7, but it got you a free dinner: taco, beans, and rice on a plastic plate with dividers, aka, prison food. And I loved how the place tried to mimic more advanced venues with an awkward insufficiency. Most of the bands were young young young and they hadn't grown into their bodies. They either played timidly or out of control. (Some barely post-adolescent guy called me a fox.) When Kris played, his self-possession was in stark contrast to everyone else.