[second thoughts]

the saddest thing in the world is driving past a crematory at night and seeing chimney smoke. maybe it's the lateness of the hour. no it's not.

hopes and dreams include, exclusively, las vegas and april and you. okay fine, those top the list but it's not exclusive. yes it is.

we don't have milk for cereal or coffee or tea in the morning and guess who gets stuck with milk run duty. one guess. go on, guess; you'll never guess. yes you will.

I'm not usually emotional for no reason but I think I might cry tonight. I take it back; I have my (many and varied) reasons. no I don't.

[the pattern it's in the]

23:03. restate my assumptions.

for most people, the emotional centers are in the right hemisphere of the brain. this explains to some degree why music has such an effect on one's emotions--because the parts of the brain that make you love music are also in the right hemisphere, and there's a lot of bandwidth between the two.

for me the emotional center is in the left hemisphere and this is why MATH STUFF GETS ME ALL WEEPY. there is no other explanation, as I have no corpus callosum. as is ideal for a guy like me.

a cryptic suggestion of possible advancement from the boss man has me all hot and bothered; thanks boss--I have trouble sleeping already, without your help. I can't meet anyone's eye anymore. it's like some horrible real-life actual reality amalgam of 'survivor' and 'the weakest link' that I can't turn off.

recently I found out, to my great pleasure, that I'm not the only one who has seen and/or enjoys the movie π.

which reminds me. 'when your mind becomes obsessed with anything, you will filter everything else out and find the thing everywhere.'

assumptions: every time I look at the clock it seems to be 11:37. every check is number 1137. 1137 visible stars in the sky. 1137 steps to the store. verily, 1137 characters in this entry. conclusion: I NEED TO PICK A DIFFERENT NUMBER (or no number).



p.s.
23:37. personal note.
I see you counting. (yes, you.)

[vividness. fear.]

this is fun, in small doses. except for the annoying side effect that I'm now wide awake and buzzing with excitement when I ought not to be.

I vividly fear it'll be some time before I fall asleep again (that's no hallucination).

all things equal, a hallucination is better than reality because it isn't participatory. what a fine line I walk.

[dirty pretty things]

my sister's boyfriend groks drew. he's even an avid reader. this is a Bad Thing and I'll tell you why: he could be a horrible person, a murderous boy band-listening drug-dealing baby-eating paris hilton-loving nazi, or a dentist, yet I would still like him solely because he likes drew.

all right he's none of those awful things. the point I'm trying to get across is that JEN you must marry him, it is now your highest calling in life to make sure his genes get carried on.

seriously now. on the day I met him, I also saw him--through the magic of 1980s-era video recording equipment--in a diaper. he could laugh at himself and that's a good sign. also jen we have it on tape that you are not the angelic angel that you (for some reason) remember yourself to be. here it occurs to me that you are the reason I have never enjoyed christmas.

anyway. conclusion: from the little I've seen he's a good person and funny, so whatever makes you happy makes me happy. and I think he makes you happy. but I ceased having to be your big brother a long long time ago, when I realized you could beat up any boy in school (myself excluded).



audrey tautou is going to be in the movie'd da vinci code. think of the implications: very soon there will be more audrey tautou posters in the world. it is cold outside but my heart is profoundly warm.



POP QUIZ
donald rumsfeld consistently looks

a. utterly confused
b. ridiculously squinty
c. drunk/hung over
d. jet lagged
e. all of the above.

(the answer is the one you might expect.)


it recently came to my attention that to my transatlantic cohorts, the word 'wanker' is far more offensive than I had been led to believe. having previously called a few of them wankers (though without malice and honestly in good humor), I feel the need to apologize.

I apologize.




...

at night I lie awake in bed never less than an hour. never.

if I could change one thing about myself, would this be it?

tonight, I can't think of anything else.

[brighter news]

in less than ten minutes, wife is going to cut my hair. it hasn't been cut since october. this on the heels of my recent goatee purge. it will be a miracle if my head doesn't freeze, break off, and roll away.

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here's to nullsoft, whose quasi-random hexadecimal background text has confounded me until only very recently.

special thanks to open office, =concatenate(), and (appropriately) random access memory.

good heavens this was fun. why can't my job consist of doing stuff like this?