The heat is still bad. We're holed up in my office with Dr. Muñoz. We'll likely spend most of the day in here.
And I've gotten behind. On the blog, I mean. We'll, on everything, really.
I am behind on being alive.
I hit these points, and I'm just tired of blogging, tired of writing, tired of it all. And don't go telling me how I have to write,
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I sympathize more than you know. The way things are imploding out here, I'm starting to think that Robert Howard and Hunter Thompson had the right idea.
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The way things are imploding out here, I'm starting to think that Robert Howard and Hunter Thompson had the right idea.
Don't get me started.
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I feel for you with the laptop troubles. I am not good with figuring out how to get computers to behave either.
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I'll cook again when it cools down.
We haven't cooked in days.
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What else do the mothmen say? I'm guessing they don't sing a lot of Queen lyrics.
Then Spooky showed up sometime before five p.m. She turned on the iBook and showed me how to get the screen to work again. 1,2,3. Easy as pie. I wanted to put my head through a wall.
As someone who's pretty technically declined (to borrow Gary Larson's term), I know the feeling.
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What else do the mothmen say? I'm guessing they don't sing a lot of Queen lyrics.
The mothmen spend a lot of time muttering.
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As we all know, billions of Buddhists believe that this life is nothing but suffering. Sometimes it's very hard to argue that one.
Billions of Buddhists can't be wrong.
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Are any of them Elvis fans?
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Are any of them Elvis fans?
Well, odds are...
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In other news, looks like Subterranean Press folks have started shipping The Ammonite Violin & Others. I just received an e-mail telling me they sent me my package is on its way.
Very good.
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