  6:18 a.m. Thursday, Day 129. I could sleep for another three hours, at least. The circles under my eyes have bags. I had some sort of recurring task-oriented dream last night (gee, big surprise after working on the proposal for ten hours straight) and so it was very unrestful.
For some reason my brother Jimmy and I had walked (? ) to Florence, South Carolina, and were having a difficult time finding our way back out. We kept being distracted by various entertainments and attractions, of which I wasn’t aware Florence had any. I’m up early and already eaten my soup so that I can glide for half an hour before work. I did NO exercise yesterday, and that is not okay.
So I’m feeling very brave and martyred. I’m thinking, How cool am I, that I can get up at 6 a.m. to exercise for 30 minutes in the comfort of my home, before I drive to my well-paid desk job where I will sit on my ass for 10 hours? That’s the funny thing about “white collar” jobs: you’re supposed to feel humble and thankful that you don’t have to physically labor for a living. You’re supposed to feel privileged that you don’t have to dig, or carry, or cause things to move from this place to that.
You’re not supposed to complain about the physical inactivity, even though that lifestyle is giving you stress, repetetive-motion disorders and back problems, and slowly killing you. 7:38 a.m. Managed 32 minutes of glider sprints. Yay me. Watched the beginning of “Lost in Translation,” and so far I really like it. There’s a wonderful scene where the girl (name? ) wanders into an ikebana class, and she’s so at a loss as to what to do with the flower in her hand.
It’s perfect — one must bring thought and reflection to ikebana, and she’s so empty she can’t muster up any idea. Her soul is just flat. I would like to contrast and compare this movie with “Gothika,” which is my vote for Worst Movie I’ve Seen This Year. What the hell was Halle Berry doing in a piece of crap like that? And why was Robert Downey Jr., there?
I don’t mean, why is such a fine actor involved, as I did with Berry. I mean, what exactly was the purpose of his role? His character contributed NOTHING. Here are the three rules for writing dialogue: each pieces of dialog must 1) advance the plot, 2) develop the character of the actor, and 3) be interesting in and of itself. Downey did not utter one single line that did any of those things, for the entire movie. All I can figure is, someone owed him a favor and wrote in a part for him at the last minute.
Also, the plot: Not believable, not scary, not logical. The cinematography: Oh, it’s all dark and blue. Oooh, how innovative. The writing: You know, it could have been really interesting to see the Berry character, a psychologist herself, doubting her own sanity. There were many fine moments of subtlety and nuance possible. However, they never materialized. Now I am off to work for another 10-hour day. Yay, giant paycheck! 
