You are on the way to 404.
I gets to see my sister before she becomes a Californian next week. I'm thinking at least a minimal amount of corruption with board and card games and cookies should happen before she and Joe have to vanish into the abyss of new work and new apartment and such. Thanks to one of the people I'm chatting with online, I've developed a huge craving for lemon bars, so I need to look up the recipe and produce some, along with regular egg-free cookies, before they arrive. I'm also thinking watermelon... it's on sale at the stinky Mexican market and if they have a good one, I'm going to pick it up. Maybe two. Mmm, watermelon.
Running was hard on Sunday. I mildly injured the top of my left foot, narrowly avoided massive blister trauma again, and got really bored running up and down the same street... well, I lost count, but something like 18 times. The bad thing about running in the black of night is parks are closed, and pathways that are more interesting don't feel as safe. But I had better get used to the idea, because 90-100 degree weather is here to stay for a while.
Livejournal gets two points for their multiple versions of "page not found." I should really get over being amused by AYB... it's so last century. But I can't help myself.
My nightly reading is a bunch of tales by Lovecraft now. I'm wondering if this will turn out badly... so far I keep falling asleep before anything interesting happens, but perhaps I'll eventually get to a place that could give me nightmares or keep me up, shivering in fear. We'll see... maybe I'm sufficiently jaded that one of the supposedly greatest horror writers of all time will roll off my back like... that thing with a back that stuff rolls off of. Oh yes, a duck. Which also floats on water. So if horror stories roll off my back, then I must be a duck, and therefore made of wood, and therefore, a WITCH! I'll expect everyone reading this to contribute a faggot to my pyre.
Still no job, same shit, different journal post, blah, blah, blah. I hate being so predictable.
Running was hard on Sunday. I mildly injured the top of my left foot, narrowly avoided massive blister trauma again, and got really bored running up and down the same street... well, I lost count, but something like 18 times. The bad thing about running in the black of night is parks are closed, and pathways that are more interesting don't feel as safe. But I had better get used to the idea, because 90-100 degree weather is here to stay for a while.
Livejournal gets two points for their multiple versions of "page not found." I should really get over being amused by AYB... it's so last century. But I can't help myself.
My nightly reading is a bunch of tales by Lovecraft now. I'm wondering if this will turn out badly... so far I keep falling asleep before anything interesting happens, but perhaps I'll eventually get to a place that could give me nightmares or keep me up, shivering in fear. We'll see... maybe I'm sufficiently jaded that one of the supposedly greatest horror writers of all time will roll off my back like... that thing with a back that stuff rolls off of. Oh yes, a duck. Which also floats on water. So if horror stories roll off my back, then I must be a duck, and therefore made of wood, and therefore, a WITCH! I'll expect everyone reading this to contribute a faggot to my pyre.
Still no job, same shit, different journal post, blah, blah, blah. I hate being so predictable.