I'd Stop the World to Melt Wit You.
The average volume of the human brain is 1400 cubic-centimeters. That's 52 fluid ounces. That's 4.3 cans of beer. Imagine the superluminal potential of a six pack filled not with beer, but with neural tissue; liquid neural tissue that we could pour into our minds like a computer upgrade. Chug. Too much Douglas Adams today. And in real life, I did nothing with the weekend, adding it to the fecal heap of wasted weekends of my life. Relaxing. But not terribly purposeful. Making a trillion dollars and advancing the zeitgeist of the world and all that sort of thing. Not me. Just another couple episodes of Gilmore Girls and pizza. What a brilliantly dialogued show. I've sold my soul to eunich-bacchi and the emasculative forces of our times, but it's too intellectually titillating for me to care. Repartee is sexy. Next week, I'll land clients and ace some exams and master Monk's Dream on the piano; get into a fist-fight, kiss a beautifully brilliant woman, survive a high speed aircraft chase through the troughs of downtown, invest in the stock market, and graciously accept the keys to the city. Or something.