it is not Wednesday, July 20, 2005.

[my data is in a better place now]

hard drive 0 failed yesterday.

i
am not
happy.

oh wait: i'm working full time now, so i am happy.

how does a guy reconcile his own accounts? easily. life zeroes itself. for, as always, everything averages out in the end.


my wife read the new harry potter book last weekend, and now she laughs at my feeble attempts to figure out who the half-blood prince is. (hint: it's me)



it is not Friday, July 15, 2005.

[a pleasant throwback]

today i've been in an a.d.d. mood, so this evening i'm digging into my supply of a.d.d. literature: the fifty-word fiction. [aside: it's a little-known fact (to microsoft word) that when two words are hyphenated, they remain two distinct words. and if there's a grammar nazi out there who dares prove me wrong, i'll just ignore it.]


stretching morning-after football-sore muscles makes me feel good, wholesome, in an earthy sort of way, reminding me that i'm matter, no different from anything else except for my tenuous connection to a strange, frail consciousness. neck, shoulders, triceps, forearms, quadriceps, calves. no one deserves to feel this satisfied.



it is not Monday, July 11, 2005.

[meta]

so. i fixed a malfunction in the toilet's innards just now, and then i happened to get on the computer before heading to bed and realized i might write about the intellectual and mechanical and plumbing prowess i have proved (to myself) that i have, but there's a problem with writing a post about fixing a toilet: i'd ipso facto have to write a post about fixing a toilet, and no one wants to read about that. i have resolved this potentially silly situation by writing a post about writing a post about fixing a toilet. the fact you have read this far vindicates me.



it is not Sunday, July 10, 2005.

[perchance to]

so i didn't pass. for weeks it's what i have been mentally preparing myself for, so when the news hit it wasn't all that bad. the downside to the whole thing is that i have to study it all over again. in the words of david beckham: 'balls.' i have nothing if not my sense of ____ (t.b.d.)


postsecret is sad, happy, funny and unfunny. if i were king, the internet would consist of nothing else.


the beauty of the library is that, after the $25 after-rebate fee for not technically living in the correct town, we get to listen to all the dandy warhols they have for cheap-as-free. which, of course, i did. and in the process i learned that the song i had previously thought to be titled 'the dope' (incidentally fourth on my highest-played list) is in fact titled 'wonderful you.' rocky is the path to truth is.

and the dvds! oh sweet retinal pleasures. this weekend was an edu-taining mix of the diary of anne frank, the graduate, and the highly disturbing apocalypse now. all of which i can shamelessly recommend but perhaps not all at once. or perhaps.


and i'm off. if anyone finds a way out, let me know.



it is not Wednesday, July 06, 2005.

[hey baby come back]

honestly, I wasn't blowing you off. I just ... kind of ... well, never got around to it.

life has been full lately. goings-on include anniversaries, fireworks, job searches, dark towers, high-stake bluffs, hits and near-hits. all of which, one would think, would provide me with a plethora of material from which to draw. one would think.

the kids outside are enjoying summer very loudly. there is a single muscle fiber in my arm that won't stop twitching. I stay awake too late and wish too much to sleep in. all is to say that nothing has changed.


more around the bend.