Stone Cold Pimpin'

Today was such a particular day, a particular mood. We got up to find, nicely enough, that the clocks had gone back an hour, so that extra lay-in wasn't as long as we thought. Stepped outside onto the patio and was enveloped by the heat and something else: the smell of smoke. Those two, combined with the golden hazy sunshine took me back in a Proustian moment to Japan 1995. I realised only today that a majority of my time in Japan was under a cloud of perpetual smoke.
Then I felt a bit strange, because while I was off in madeline-biscuit land, I was actually inhaling the remains of somebody's Rancho Cucamonga/Lake Piru house.
Tonight I took part in a press conference for Michael Moore's visit to Santa Barbara. The man filled the Arlington to the bursting point. He came late to the pre-show green room conf, but was a gracious guest, though the answers he gave to the questions mostly turned up in his lecture, line for line, joke for joke. The only thing he didn't use was a little sneak preview of his upcoming 2004 film, "Fahrenheit 911": I asked him about black box voting, and though he did later tell the audience about Diebold--eliciting a huge gasp from them (I guess this story is not mainstream enough yet)--he told the press that in the upcoming film, he visits the house of Diebold's CEO.
I'm possibly going to write this up as a news feature for the Voice. We'll see.
Finally, the air is cool and crisp tonight and is making a refreshing atmosphere for late night typing. I'm in the zone, baby! I'm ready to zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz