whenever anyone mentions norman mailer I get really irritated. I've never read him; I just do.

I was all set to haul ass for savannah this year when I found out that st. patty's day was on saturday. then I find out they scheduled the stinkin parade for yesterday maybe next year I'll just take a few days off.

warmer weather should be here to stay soon. here's a shocker: this year I'm going to put out flowers. I give them two weeks. I have a black thumb.

the neon bible is an excellent book. I wish I could have written like that at sixteen. or that I could now.

in bedknobs and broomsticks, emelius browne lives in a posh london mansion that he doesn't own. the manse's rightful owners have fled--along with the rest of the neighborhood--due to a massive unexploded bomb in the street directly in front of it. browne loves the bomb because it enables him "to live like a king;" he stays put despite its constant threat.

I wish that I didn't see his situation as such a perfect metaphor for my life.

more introspection: is it possible to feel ashamed of an action without regretting it? the more I think of it, the more I think it is.

digging daylight savings time. it's lovely to see the slant of the setting sun paint the top eighth of my cubicle walls orange.