I'm lying in my bed, the blanket is warm, this body will never be safe from harm

When you wake up late, the day is much shorter. I know, a profound statement and one you've probably never pondered, but there it is, right out of the gate. It's how I roll, even when I've had too little sleep and a slight hangover. You know, now that I think of it, I didn't wake up that late - it was around ten thirty - and, even though I went to sleep some time after four, I still got about six hours worth. Everything is relative; an insomniac would kill for six hours. Still, I'm feeling tired and hungover.

Oh, here's a little sidebar for you. As I was typing that last sentence, a fly invaded my personal space and when I went to swat it, I knocked over my full (to the fucking brim!) mug of coffee all over my desk, my lap, and the floor. Reason number 35 why I hate flies. Anyway, who needs coffee in the morning? Not this sleepy, foggy-brained, hungover lout. Nope, not me.

Went to Mark and Becky's cocktail party last night. Good times. Ok, I need a minute to collect myself. I'm still stewing over the coffee incident. Doesn't help that there is now an overwhelming stench of coffee in my room. Better change my shorts, I think, seeing how they've absorbed about a half a mug of coffee. I'm not going to lie to you, I did not see my Sunday starting off this way. Fucking fate, fucking flies, fucking clumsy oaf!

The party. I rode up with Janelle, Pat, and Allie. Almost the entire way there, Pat, for emphasis, would strike me in the chest throughout our conversations. "You'd like that band (Biff!). I can't believe you've never heard them (Baff!). What's the matter with you ? (Whap!)" I would have been irked if I wasn't all muscular and shit and able to absorb his feeble blows. You doubt me? Suit yourself. Pray we never meet in alley.

Our lives become insular the older we get. Better put, our spheres, if you will, become narrower. We have our jobs, our families, and, if we're lucky and able, a social life. But even that can be tricky to maintain. Many of the friends I saw last night I hardly ever see anymore. I was talking with Rebecca and we determined it had been years since we last saw each other. I hadn't seen Mark and Becky in at least a year. And so it went with others.

I did my best to utilize the time I had with everyone. There were more than a few people there I could have spent the entire night with, and would have been content doing so, but it would have been at the expense of reuniting with others. I'm a lucky individual. I have many quality friends and I love them all. Sometimes, in the fist of everyday life, I forget. That's why parties like this one are important. Perspective, ya dig?

The coffee smell is waning but still potent. If I find that fly, I will murder it. I will kill it and feel deep satisfaciton. I will not feel the slightest pang of remorse. This insect must die, ideally in a prolonged and tortuous manner. I'll keep you posted.

Over the last several weeks, in the midst of feeling shitty about my life, I hung out with Foley and he told me about how he'd been going up to Scott's place in NH almost every weekend and making music. They would play chess or Stratego, record a song or two, talk about stuff, take a walk, whatever ....very relaxed and creative. And they were prolific. It all sounded so appealing to me, to the extent that I felt like I needed, rather than wanted, to get up there.

Up until I saw Scott last night, I've kept close the idea of playing music together. It's informed the way I've been writing and rehearsing. More importantly, it served as a light at the end of the tunnel. Life had grown stale, empty. Going up to Scott's, would, among other things, be a sabbatical. Therapy.

I told him about my plan and he was receptive. The only problem is he's soon leaving for Europe and will be gone for five weeks. That's okay, upon his return we will commence with making music. If not, there is always my back up plan, which is to take up backyard wrestling.

There was a welter of drinks at the party and I sampled many of them. But not all. I missed out on Scott's ginger brew, which I've had before and loved. And I didn't get to have Janelle's concoction, either. Odd, that, considering the two of them are on my short list of people I'd trust to make a fantastic mixed drink for me. Maybe it was for the best that I didn't sample from everyone's offering. A slippery slope that would have been.

The police showed up a couple of times and, from what I here, they acted like brutish assholes. It wasn't that loud a party, but the cops treated it like it was pulled directly from Animal House. When they showed up the second time, they threatened to arrest Mark after he had the nerve to say that he had complied with their order to turn the music down when they were there the first time. Ah, the 'burbs.

Unnecessarily aggressive cops aside, the party was a success and, even though it wasn't until the wee hours of the morning when we left, I could have used another six hours with everyone. Time just goes by too quickly when you're having a good time. I wonder if there's a saying that expresses as much. Hmmm....

Anyway, it was a great time with an all-star lineup of guests. Many laughs, engaging conversations, and, between you and me, my libido was stirring all night. Really, though, what an assembly of beautiful ladies that were in attendance. If I were so inclined, I'd break out the word foxy. Seems I just did.


It's mid-afternoon, but my sluggish mind and body thinks it's still morning. It's possible I'll take a nap. It's a gorgeous day, though, and I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn't get outside for a bit. We'll see.

Spira had her hernia operation on Friday. She's been immobile and has employed friends, me included, to help around the house. I went over Friday night and, along with Pam, we watched Microcosmos. At one point, I inadvertently made Spira laugh so hard she started crying because of the pain it caused. I felt bad, especially since what I said wasn't very funny. So unfunny it was, I'm not going to share it with you.

I saw her Spira again yesterday. I made us lunch and took Missy for a walk in the park. I also took advantage of the bottle of hydrogen peroxide Spira had and attempted to unclog my ear. Spira poured a few drops in it, but to no avail. It's still a bit clogged. Maybe I have an infection. I used to get them a lot when I was younger.

I may read from Martin's A Dance With Dragons today. I'm about three quarters of the way through and I'll reserve my critique until I'm finished, mostly because I'm not sure how I feel about it. I may also read from my anthology of Sherlock Holmes stories. Yes, that sounds delightful.

Alright, you stone cold suckas, I'm done with you.

Morning Mr. Magpie

I'm good for some ear clogging at least once every summer. Washing my hair this morning, both of 'em got clogged up with water and if there was any drainage going on, I wasn't privy to it. I reached for the hydrogen peroxide but the bottle is no longer there. It's evening and I can barely hear out of my left ear. Nothing like keeping a tradition alive.

Hung out with Spira after work yesterday. She regaled me with tales from her trip to Peru and we had tacacho and salad for dinner. Yummers. We also had Peruvian coffee and and fruit smoothies. Yummers, part two. A nice visit. I missed her and was glad she returned home healthy, wealthy, and wise. Ok, maybe not wealthy.

Had a comical experience with a prostitute yesterday in Lowell. I was trying to find parking on a side street and I came upon an attractive young woman walking in the same direction. I passed her and a spot I wanted and made a three point turn a little up ahead. I didn't figure she was a prostitute until she hurried her steps toward me and leveled me with a very, how should I say, inviting smile. I'm a little slow on the uptake, but I figured it out fairly quickly. She must have thought I was turning around in order to solicit her services.

I have to say, as far as street hookers go, she looked pretty good, meaning she didn't have a haggard visage and wore an outfit that wasn't too slutty. She looked like a civilian. So how do I know she was a prostitute? Well, after I turned around, I drove back the way I had come, opting out of the spot I had my eye on so that I wouldn't have to deal with the prostitute. Of course there wasn't another spot, so I turned around again and decided to park in the original spot, hooker be damned. When she saw me coming back towards her, she stopped and waited.

Suddenly, a beat up old van came around the corner and pulled up beside her. A brief conversation took place and she hopped in. As I passed them, I peeked inside the van. The driver was pretty old looking and had a big shit-eating grin. They sped off. Man, if I had wanted that prostitute, I would have been pretty pissed at my shit luck and at that old man from stealing my girl!

Had a friend on Facebook that constantly published braggy posts. " Going out to eat with Shawn Thornton of the Bruins tonight". And then he'd post a picture of the two of them just in case no one believed him. I'm happy for you buddy, but I'm going to have to block you. And I did. Sometimes I feel like blocking almost everyone. Not everyone is overtly braggy, but there's plenty of ego gratification going on. Which is fine, but it's not very appealing to me. Still, there's enough about the site that I like to keep me coming back. And there's no getting around the fact that it's a great way to keep in touch with friends.

And now I'm going to get in touch with myself. Interpret that how you will.

Well, I'm a funky skull and I'm a scorpio, and when I get my flow, I'm doctor on the go

Despite a periodic cough that's plagued me the last couple of days, I think I may be seeing the last of this cold. Fred came home the other day feeling sick. And, at work, Marcy is still nursing her cold. Good to know winter colds aren't confined to winter anymore.

Having re-read my last post, I don't think I would change anything. I needed to get some things off my chest and I did. I feel a bit better about things now, the despair isn't so palpable, but not much has changed. Just like everyone else, though, I do what I can and try to make the best of my situation.

Janelle came by yesterday. She always makes me feel better and always seems to know what to say or not to say. She is one of the most caring people I know and I love her a lot. She's a potent ally in this fucked up world.

My other friends are not too shabby, either. I am blessed to have them in my life and I am thankful. My problems, though, sometimes leave me feeling utterly alone and helpless. The truth is my friends and family are angels on my shoulders and they help me get by.

Listening to Radiohead's The King of Limbs on Grooveshark. As much as I love this band, it's the first time I've heard it. So far, so good.

I haven't been able to sing much lately because of my illness, but last night I felt good enough to attempt some. I ran through a bunch of my songs and it felt good. Tonight, I'll play some more. One good thing about not being able to sing is that I've been playing a lot of slide guitar. I'm getting pretty damn good, me thinks.

Practiced yoga after work and by the time I was through, I was soaked in sweat (hold that image in your minds, ladies - you won't regret it). Yes, today was a hot one. Tomorrow may be hotter. Oh, well. I'll get by.

Today is the greatest day I've ever known

There's no easy way to say it, but it's the truth: I am unhappy in almost every conceivable way. Really, these days I'm grasping at straws when it comes to finding a modicum of joy or peace. I have a few simple pleasures, but they are becoming fewer and fewer. What concerns me most of all is my lack of hope of anything good manifesting in my life. I used to at least have hope, even in the grips of despair.

I've lived a life of mediocrity for too long, I'd say most of my adult life. With each passing year, it's become worse. I'm not suggesting it's been a life bereft of anything worthwhile, but I've backed up into a wall and there's nowhere to go.

I don't know if I'm explaining myself very well, but I just need to let some stuff out. That is the purpose here. I'm typing quickly and will probably not edit. Venting. That's what I need to do.

Am I depressed? I'm not sure that I am. I have many things to be depressed about, but I can't say I'm depressed. I haven't reached the point where I can't get out of bed and I still have an appetite, so who knows.

More than anything, I'm saddened by my life. I'm saddened by all of the things I've missed out on, I'm saddened by all the things I feel I'll never have. Is this rock bottom? Things could be much worse, to be sure, but where I'm at is lower than I've ever been.

One thing that's really become evident is how lonely I feel. If I keep going the way I'm going, and let me assure I can't go much longer like this, I will die a sad, lonely man. What the fuck? Really? That guy? Never saw that coming, but now I don't see any other course.

I'm feeling old, too. I was just hanging out with my roommates and our landlord's son and I felt out of touch with them. Maybe just in my head, but I felt I didn't have much to offer the conversation. And the people closer to my age, well most of them have families of their own, another thing I can't relate to.

For years, I kept telling myself things would get better. I'd tell myself, "Don't worry, you'll eventually meet someone and fall in love". Never happened. I'd say, "You'll figure the career thing out". Never did. I pepped myself up in a welter of ways. Nothing but empty hope.

The dominoes are falling towards a shitty outcome. This I see and it scares me. I despair over the fact that I can't figure out a way out of this. I've prayed, I've appealed to a higher power; I've tried to use my noggin. Nothing. It feels like I'm fated to sink lower and lower until I'm dead.

If I'm depressing you, I'm sorry. I'm not even sure I'll publish this, but, as I said, I need to vent. I don't feel like I have any other means to do it.

Lower and lower. I'm noticing more disconcerting developments. They sprout up here and there. Now I've got a whole crop. Lower and lower. What happened? How did I end up this way?

I always marveled at how impossible it was for me to find a girlfriend. I was affable, not ugly, had a good sense of humor, an adept musician. You'd think the odds would favor me being fairly successful with women, but no fucking way. Not for this guy. Even when it would seem like something was brewing, something would happen to put an end to it. After all the disinterest and rejection I've faced, I don't blame myself for thinking that if you lined up fifty single women, not a one would be interested in me. Seriously, there has been something fucked up, almost fated, about my lack of a romantic life.

And I get older. That ship, if there ever was one, has sailed. Ah, fuck, I don't want to be a whiny baby. I don't want to play the victim. But I don't want to lie. I just need to vent.

Things are getting worse by the day. I'm still trying to be positive, to cling to hope, but it's getting harder and harder. I'm beginning to question why I even bother anymore, and that troubles me.

I'm so fucking broke. I live virtually hand to mouth. I can't afford anything and I don't have many skills, so finding a better job in this shitty climate is daunting at best. Ah, but I don't even give it a try. Fear has crippled me in many ways. The anxiety disorder I thought I had gotten over, has never left. It just went from bombast to something more subversive. And way more destructive. The slow burn.

You know, I'm just rambling here and I don't even know why I've wasted my time. I'm just at my wit's end. I don't know how to get out of this hole. I'm at the bottom of a well with smooth, slick walls and I can't get out. No rope, no ladder, nada.

Alright, enough out of me. I think I deserve to be happy. I don't hate myself, but yet I'm in a scary, undesirable place. It would be nice to wake up in the morning without dreading the day ahead of me.

Post script. After I spewed out the above, I read for a while and tried to go to sleep. It took a while. It is morning and I'm tired, yet slightly reinvigorated. I woke with the echoes of Tom Waits singing "It's time, time, time". Time for what, I wonder. Well, if it's coming from Tom's lips, it can't be good.


Today is another day. I'll give it a shot.

Misery's the river of the world

It's Friday. I'm home from work and just woke up from a nap. The day flew by, but it was a hassle to get through. I was only in the office for an hour when Marcy informed me I needed to go to the Salem registry of deeds to do some recording. I left around one and made a pit stop in Burlington so I could visit Barnes and Noble and purchase A Dance With Dragons. I had a gift card that still had some value, so going a little out of my way was worth it. At the checkout counter, the cute clerk informed me that the author had been at the store on Tuesday. People were lining up outside the store at seven in the morning, she said. "What time was his appearance scheduled?", I asked. "Seven at night", she replied. Hmm, not sure if I believe that, but then again, the last Harry Potter movie premiered last night and people were camping out everywhere for tickets.

Driving through Salem on a Friday afternoon, or pretty much any time, sucks. Constant traffic. I did my work there and made my way home. On the highway, my low fuel light went on. I had gotten gas on my way to work; guess it wasn't enough. Somehow, I managed to make it home and all the way to the Market Basket in Somerville. I go to that store rarely because it's a nightmare to shop at. Talk about traffic!

Hung out with Foley last night. I met him at the Diesel Cafe and we walked to Harvard Square. I was feeling like shit yesterday, but hoped the walk would give me a little pep. It did on the way there, but the walk home was rough. He had a couple of errands to attend to and then we stopped at the Brattle for some coffee. It was good seeing him. Always good conversations when I hang out with Foley.

When I got home, I was exhausted. I checked some emails for a few minutes and then crawled into bed. I had thought I was getting better, but whatever cold I've got informed me last night that it was still present and more eager than ever to fuck me up. Marcy's been sick this week, too. What's with all the summer colds?

Been melancholy and trying to snap out of it. Given the way things have been going for me, it's not surprising. Ah, I'm too lethargic to get into any of it. The only bright light has been the release of A Dance With Dragons. Oh, now I'm feeling better. Guess I should hurry and finish A Feast For Crows so I can dive into the book I've been waiting six years for. And True Grit just arrived in the mail. Maybe if I don't do anything tonight, I'll watch it.

I like to look at shadows sweating on the wall

Another restless night of sleep. In case I haven't mentioned it, being sick sucks. I woke up around five thirty this morning wide awake. Really, it could have three in the afternoon for all the energy and alertness I had. Somehow, I managed to fall back asleep. And had a dream.

I was standing on the side of a road with my friend Mike. We spotted a wedding taking place on someone's lawn across the street. For some reason, Mike started yelling at the people. "Fuck you, you motherfuckers!", he bellowed. Everyone turned and looked our way. "Hey, assholes! Fuck off!", Mike shouted.

At first I thought it was kind of funny, but not for long. This was uncharacteristic behavior for Mike, especially when it was evident that there was no impetus for it. There were a few ushers in the wedding party who looked like they could handle themselves in a fight. They started walking towards us. Mike continued with his verbal assault. "Go home, you god-damned cocksuckers!"

I hurried across the street to attempt some damage control. I apologized to everyone profusely. There must have been about thirty people there. An older woman, the bride's grandmother, accepted my apology and then complimented me on my peacemaking skills. Others chimed in and I felt pretty damn good about myself. They asked me to stay for the rest of the wedding. I'm not sure if I did, because I woke up. A strange dream in which I learned two things: 1. Everyone loves me and 2. Mike is a fucking asshole.

Martin's A Dance With Dragons was released today. I am not ready for it. I'm only a little past the halfway mark with A Feast For Crows and I probably won't finish it in the next couple of days. It's widely considered the weakest book in the series, but I think that's more a reflection of how amazing the other books are. I'm loving the book and am enjoying the stuff I missed the first time around. It's going to be a great thing to be able to go right to the next book rather than waiting another five years.

I'm listening to Queensryche's Rage For Order. For my money, it's their best record. C'mon all you Operation: Mind Crime fans - I'll go toe to toe with you on this one. And I will win.

Well, there's nothing left to say after that.

Wind up your cameras

I haven't done much these last few days. I found myself in the unique position of being sick in an empty house. Yesterday was my most active day. I awoke feeling sluggish - my sleep had been intermittent and restless - and it took me half the day to shake free of the cobwebs. Around mid afternoon, after a nap, I felt well enough to practice yoga. It was a good session. I ate dinner shortly thereafter and then decided to walk over to Spy Pond and read by the shore. I needed to get out of the house.

I'm glad I went. I sat on the grass and read from A Feast For Crows. Occasionally, I'd find myself surrounded by a flock of Canada geese as they fed on the grass. Around eight, I got up to leave just as a guy on a bike came barreling down the hill beside me. He flipped over the handle bars and remained motionless on the ground, limbs akimbo. Having lived in the city for years now, I've become pretty adept at sorting out who's injured and who's drunk or high in situations like this. I determined fairly quickly that this guy was drunk or high. He didn't look hurt, he just looked like he needed to pass out. As I walked away, I saw him roll on side and fall quickly asleep. A few minutes later, the visual of him flying over the handlebars made me chuckle. I'm sorry, but it did. In my defense, it did look awfully funny, especially when he came barreling down the hill hollering gibberish. Seriously, if I had filmed it and showed it to you, you would have laughed.

When I arrived home, I felt like shit. Maybe, I thought, I over-extended myself with the yoga and the long walk. I retired to my room, watched Jimmy Stewart in the wonderful Harvey, watched some Bill Hicks stand up, and then read. I wondered when I was going to start feeling better. It was a rough night.

Today I feel slightly better, but I'll reserve my optimism until I am completely hale. I've learned my lesson.

I'm going to Graceland

I've got the place to myself for the next couple of days. Rae left the other day for vacation and Fred just left to visit his parents in Maine. I had thought, late last night when I heard movement a floor below me, that Fred's girlfriend Danielle was in town. If so, the household was about to become 35% more animated. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Well, anyway, turns out she wasn't here, and now no one but me is here.

I'm still sick, so I probably won't be throwing a party or anything. Will probably watch movies, read, play music, repeat. I want to see Spira before she leaves tomorrow, but I'm not sure if that will be a good idea. I don't want to give her my bug. I'll talk with her about it.

I watched 127 Hours last night. Finally. I've had the damn thing sitting around for weeks. It was good, but because I knew what was going to happen - the dude cutting his arm off to save his life - I wasn't terribly engaged. Overall, I enjoyed it. There were some unexpected sequences that made me smile in appreciation.

Some reviews are in for A Dance With Dragons. I've only skimmed so as not to fall into any spoilers, but every review has been positive. One claimed it was the best book in the series. Damn, I'm excited to read this book!

So, I love this dog, Mike that is living with us. We bonded pretty quickly. He's such a cute little guy. Rae keeps thanking me for showing interest in him, which always surprises me. I tell her I should be thanking her for bringing Mike into my life. After losing Pooch Edward, it's nice having another dog in the house.

I feel sluggish and am thinking about either taking measures to wake myself up or give in to the sluggishness and crawl into bed.

I'll have to think about this.

The mother and child reunion is only a motion away

Well, I went for that run the other night. It was hot and humid, but I managed. When I reached Spy Pond, I went and sat on the grass by the shore. It wasn't so hot and humid here and there was a nice breeze. The sun was setting and I watched an attractive woman playing with her dog. I stuck around for a while, enjoying the placidity. It started getting dark; I made my way home.

I had needed the run and especially the soft meditation by the water. Earlier, I had been worrying over some things, one being a feeling of loneliness that had settled over me, another money concerns. The run helped with perspective. It also helped me get thoroughly soaked. When I left Spy Pond, the sky was clear. By the time I reached Davis Square, it was pouring.

I ran into Foley there. Hadn't seen him in a while, but our reunion was brief because of the rain. Seeing him helped take the edge of that loneliness I referred to. By the time I came home, I was soaked. It felt good. I stood in the kitchen and talked with Fred for a bit before hitting the shower and putting on dry clothes.

I woke up yesterday feeling ill. Seemed a head cold had landed. I spent most of my day at work with a leaky nose and a heavy skull. By the time I came home, I was feeling alright. I practiced yoga, which was my way of saying "F-you!" to the cold. Later that night, as I tried to sleep, the cold said "F-you!" back. I had strange dreams, mostly about being in Martin's fictional Westeros and tossed and turned. I alternated between shivering and sweating. I listened to a podcast about Sasquatch in the wee hours of the morning.

I didn't go to work today. I would have been useless there. I spent most of today lying in bed with a foggy mind and sore body. It's after six and I feel a bit more hale, but I still feel out of it. I have the weekend to recover. There is that.

Spira is leaving for Peru in a couple of days. Hers is a spiritual quest and she will drink ayahuasca tea like the shamans do and she will go places. After the requisite vomiting. Unfortunately, the tea induces it and there's no getting around it. She'll be gone for ten days and what's she's doing is the bravest thing I've seen anyone do in a long time.

I'm hankering for some Paul Simon. Might be a worthwhile endeavor to sit back and listen to some. I will make it so.

Time for this sick ol' dog to end this. My energy level is low and I'm looking over at the bed with visions of laying on it and watching movies and reading from A Feast For Crows, a book I'd like to finish soon because........

A Dance With Dragons, the next installment will be released next week! After five years - that's right, five years! - of waiting, my hunger will soon be sated. I'm so utterly excited for this book, I don't care how geeky it makes me look. Really, I'm like a twelve year old with this. Oh, man, it's only days away. Tyrion will be back, Jon Snow will be back....aw, yeah. Ok, I better end this before I go in my pants.

We used to have good times together, but now I feel them slip away

It is very hot out and I'm gearing up to go for a run. My plan is to wait until early evening with the hope that it will have cooled off a bit by then. I'm doubtful, but there's a slight breeze, which should help.

I need some exercise. I haven't done any for the last several days and if I wait too long, I'll have to buy some new clothes that will accommodate my new-found fatliness (just made that up. I like it.) See, while I wasn't exercising, I was eating rather unhealthily. The cookout at my parent's house on the 4th didn't do me any favors. Burgers, hotdogs, cookies, birthday cake, potato salad, you name it - all in abundance. I didn't gorge, but I didn't hold back, either. Still, I'm willing to bet there were far more egregious eating offenses on that day.

I had a good time with my family. I picked Nana up on my way and, due to her hearing issues, I yelled myself hoarse trying to talk with her. "How's your new roommate working out?". "So far, so good, Nana". "Did you say she chops wood?". "No, I said SO FAR SO GOOD." "Oh, it's a nice neighborhood?" No, I SAID SO FAR SO GOOD!" "I'm sorry, you think I should what?" .

Never mind.

Hey, for someone in her nineties, Nana is doing pretty damn well. Her eyes and ears are failing her, but she keeps trucking. Somehow, despite those deficiencies, she knows everything about everyone. Don't know how she's does that.

Rae is pretty much all moved in. Or, to put it more aptly, she's all moved in, but she's still unpacking and organizing her stuff. Her dog, Mike, is a cutie, but I'm a little worried that he might be trouble. I've noticed that whenever Rae isn't with him, he whines and even barks. Makes sense in light of the fact that she's with him almost all the time. I don't mind so much, but I hope it doesn't bother the landlord upstairs. I'm not too worried, however, because I'm sure some of this behavior is because he's living in a new place. We'll see. He's barking as I write this. Oh, boy.

My birthday was yesterday and I had to work. I was tired all day and wished I'd had the foresight to take the day off. Would have meant a nice long weekend. Ah, but I didn't; no use stewing over it. Other than that, it was a quiet birthday. Janelle stopped by to pick up some stuff and Spira and Missy The Dog came by later for a visit.

Ok, time to start thinking about this run.

If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true?

A quiet weekend. Last night, Mara and I watched Days of Heaven. It was good seeing her. I was shocked almost to the point of passing out (it's true, damnit!) that she made it through the entire film. Why? Because: a) She almost always falls asleep b) She had just spent the entire day bike riding and was bushed c) The film has a trance-like quality to it and d) Prior to the film, I had forced her at gun-point to eat an entire turkey, which , as you know, has Triptophan, or whatever it's called in it.

Inspired by Bob Brozman, who I've been listening to a lot lately, I've been practicing playing guitar with a slide. Over the years, I've picked it up here and there but I'm certainly not proficient. I'm getting better and learning how subtly difficult it is. Sometimes you have to be gentle, sometimes rough. A lot of precision and nuance involved.

Might watch Iron Man: 2 today. Or read from a Feast For Crows. Maybe both. Oh, and some slide guitar playing, of course.

Janelle and Pooch Edward Bottoms came by today to pick up some stuff. Concurrent to that was Rae and her dad moving stuff into the house. Transition.

And I'm going to transit my butt out this piece. Holla!