MSN:
Turns out it’s the bullet.
Month: October 2003
I smile habitually at people I don’t know, when making eye contact. When I’m tired or it’s raining, it’s like saying “Hey, yeah, you know, all in it together, hang tough.” Otherwise, it’s my version of “Hello! Don’t shoot.”
This morning at the bus stop:
| Harrassed-Looking Woman: |
“Excuse me. You got a cigarette?” |
| Me: | “No, I’m sorry.” |
| (HLW pauses, looks around, looks back) | |
| HLW: | “Makes you happy, doesn’t it? Makes you happy to refuse people.” |
| Me: | “No, I… don’t smoke.” |
| HLW: | “Then why you smiling like that? I’ll tell you why. It’s ’cause you’re an asshole.“ |
I hardly ever remember my dreams, so when I do they always seem bizarre way out of proportion. Last night I dreamt at some point that I was a superhero who worked in an office, and that a quasi-friend of mine was trying to catch me in my secret identity by going through my computer while I was in the bathroom. Fortunately I could monitor his actions via my wrist-camera screen. At another point a bunch of people, including Ian, Arnold Schwarzenegger and my cousin Josh, were at a Lowe’s that doubled as a toy store, and which sold Play-Doh and other modeling compounds in enormous quantities. (It was part of a mall, but we never actually made it that far.)
And I woke up repeating to myself “the principle of recursion is founded on the fact that some Mexican food can be made without any food.” Which almost makes sense.
I’m sitting here at my computer and all of a sudden I start to feel the floor jump under my feet. What the hell? I’ve been living here two and a half months and I’ve never felt anything like this. I’m on the tenth floor of a solid-concrete building! And Kentucky doesn’t have baby earthquakes!
If I die in a pile of rubble or anything, somebody please take care of my piano.
Will Johnston doesn’t believe in binomial nomenclature.
Will Johnston drinks molten steel and eats fish heads.
The Tower of Pisa didn’t lean before Will Johnston.
Will Johnston shits emeralds.
And yet, somehow, Will Johnston is not Jake Berendes.
I want the Cubs to win the pennant an awful lot. I think I’m becoming a Cubs fan, and it’s all my grandmother’s fault! Plus I tend to like things that lose.
Yeah, I got nothing. Boring weekend.
Update 2337 hrs: No! Not boring! I forgot about seeing Lisa yesterday, and comic shopping, and picking up my first Powers collection, and finding it one of my favorite things ever. Permit me to dork out for a moment, but Brian Michael Bendis is fast becoming my favorite comics writer. Okay, out-dorking complete.
Also finally got a couple of secret projects up to date. One of these you may well already know about, as it’s not terribly hard to find. The other you probably don’t!
And I have health insurance now. Just in case you were wondering.
Spam
Horny teen sluts getting it on for the first time
Come on, now, that’s a contradiction in terms!
Spam
Kirk, You have been invited to a wild evening carefully as crock
- What?
- “Kirk?”
Apparently only my boy friends have blogs.
Yo ho. I emerge from the shark-thick waters, knife in my teeth and a steely glint in my eye, having taken all three of my double-damned midterms in ONE DAY and lived to tell the scurvy tale. Yo ho.
And now, in lieu of booty, I go to Lexington. What reward holds Lexington, you ask? It holds Jon. It holds Monica. It will hold me and Ken and Maria, and most importantly, it will hold ANGIE APARO!