I'm having a really hard time writing right now. I can only enjoy the beauty of the struggle for so long before I become annoyed, so I'm taking a break and posting photos instead: Disintegration-era Robert, my favorite Robert.


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I've been tweeting a lot about the Olympics to give the illusion that I'm not completely detached from reality, while meanwhile in another tab I'm 156 pages deep into a Cure Tumblr, adding to the collection of photos and gifs that I'm curating for obscure reasons ( Read more... )

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So there's been all sorts of hockey-related flailing on my Twitter feed for a while now, and I resisted for a long time because what, exactly, is hockey bringing to the party? Toothless faces and slashed throats and catastrophic injuries and...what are you supposed to do with all that. Like, really.

But then.


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Justin Timberlake tomorrow night! The slow-simmering anticipation is almost like a drug-I'll be kind of sad to see that part of it end, but I'm really looking forward to the show.

( Let me set the mood right. )

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Work has been debilitating on an epic scale for the past week, capped off by a meeting with the operations manager this morning in which I was informed that they're terminating a member of my team next Tuesday. It's primarily a budget issue (although there were other performance factors that doubtless influenced the decision to select this ( Read more... )

( June 14th & 15th, 2011. )

"He was himself."

-Buster Posey, on Tim Lincecum's complete game shutout of the Oakland A's


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