It's a quiet and sleepy day. Only three of us are in. I'm planning on taking a long, leisurely lunch with my friend R. and cutting out early to meet A. and his new boss at the San Jose jazz festival.

I slept and slept last night. I'm still awfully tired, and also bored at work, so have been coming home exhausted.

We saw Mulholland Drive last night. I'm not the most familiar with David Lynch; saw Blue Velvet as a college freshman, but was paying more attention to the sullen film major who was the object of my infatuation than the movie itself, so I don't remember much. My friends tell me this was classic Lynch. I found it interesting but refuse to think about it much now that I've watched it, because I don't really think it was meant to be understood and therefore don't want to tax my brain unnecessarily.

I will say that I liked how well the movie simulated the subconscious, how much it seemed like a dream, with various people sliding in and out, identities switching around, disconnected scenarios that never add up in the end.