hey old man! how'd you get so old?
You want TMI? I got some TMI for you.
I think the hair around my nipples has doubled in the last two years. Just around the nipples. I'm not a fan of chest hair, especially my own, and noticing this doesn't particularly please me. Also, shit I gotta lose some weight. I keep saying this, doing nothing.
So I dug around in my boxes and couldn't immediately find Oryx & Crake, but I did find Rant. Less than fifteen minutes after rationalizing to myself that I could read Rant quickly and with any luck I may be emptying all these boxes back onto bookshelves and DVD racks sometime soon, and that Ms. Atwood could wait her turn, Megan texts me to say, Drop whatever you are doing and go read Rant. Been a while since I read his work, but I am pretty sure this one is my new favorite. So now I am, of course, reading Rant. Bummer about the hardback.
Tomorrow, while I man the taperoom at Laika, there is a reasonable chance I will get a text message, phone call, or gmail chat from Briana, telling us that Amy the Lovecraft-fan Landlady has called her back with news, one way or the other. I am going to try and lie to myself about the level of anxiety building up quietly inside. I'm going to do my best to put it out of my thoughts and not worry about it.
I got plenty of other things in life to worry about, mull over, or fantasize about anyway.
Like ghosts who think about me, and astronaut love stories, and mobster doppelgangers, and strange chemistries, and the pricetag for bridge maintenance.
And other coded nothings.
G'night.
I think the hair around my nipples has doubled in the last two years. Just around the nipples. I'm not a fan of chest hair, especially my own, and noticing this doesn't particularly please me. Also, shit I gotta lose some weight. I keep saying this, doing nothing.
So I dug around in my boxes and couldn't immediately find Oryx & Crake, but I did find Rant. Less than fifteen minutes after rationalizing to myself that I could read Rant quickly and with any luck I may be emptying all these boxes back onto bookshelves and DVD racks sometime soon, and that Ms. Atwood could wait her turn, Megan texts me to say, Drop whatever you are doing and go read Rant. Been a while since I read his work, but I am pretty sure this one is my new favorite. So now I am, of course, reading Rant. Bummer about the hardback.
Tomorrow, while I man the taperoom at Laika, there is a reasonable chance I will get a text message, phone call, or gmail chat from Briana, telling us that Amy the Lovecraft-fan Landlady has called her back with news, one way or the other. I am going to try and lie to myself about the level of anxiety building up quietly inside. I'm going to do my best to put it out of my thoughts and not worry about it.
I got plenty of other things in life to worry about, mull over, or fantasize about anyway.
Like ghosts who think about me, and astronaut love stories, and mobster doppelgangers, and strange chemistries, and the pricetag for bridge maintenance.
And other coded nothings.
G'night.