stuff...

i will never be as eloquent, nor as prolific as.... some other folks/i once was. it's just the way it is. i compose a hundred entries in my head, but they are never written. many of them are too personal for public consumption (and yet, if i write them down privately, there will be no audience, so what's the point?) and the rest...well, i'm just too lazy.

so there comes these intermittent blasts of babble.


1) i've discovered that there's still a lot of bad stuff that i thought i was done with, but that i'm not. things that still make me angry that i figured wouldn't. and bad habits that i have that i really should have broken....

2) funny dreams recently: shot twice in the side, police show up, ask what happened. "I've been shot!" "Oh yeah?" replies the cop. "What was the shot made of?" My answer: "Bullets!" Also a dream in which I worked for a company whose name I could not remember and it felt like I hadn't been to work in a really long time (much like my recurring high school or college "I haven't been to class all year, how am I not going to fail this" dreams). But I'm at the office, clearing some crap out of my desk, walk the receptionist out and I have two umbrellas whose design, in my dreams, is just brilliant. Plus, I am walking like a speed skater, my right foot turned 135 degrees. It helps on the ice.

3) Movies: Lucky # Slevin, The Departed, United 93. All good in their own ways. All shocking in their own ways.

Anything else? Erin and I continue, unabated, caretakers of two insane cats, watchers of fun televisions and videos and such, both feeling kinda like we're floating about in our lives and both poised to do something about it.

Well, she probably is. I continue to pretend to be. Shh. Don't tell.