Marc
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbor-stained steel --
Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing for your veins!
-- The Prince in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, Act I Scene I
One. I received word this evening that Jesse, our militarily challenged companion, is actually being shipped off by the Army this time. I didn't get more than two or three words in on our phone conversation, so I couldn't tell you where he is going or what he'll be doing when he gets there. But I'm sure if anyone would like to fill his email inbox up with me by clicking [HERE], they would be more than welcome to. Kind words. Nice words, please. It's so strange to have such a close friend leaving for war.
Two. I don't want to write about the war tonight. Or at least I didn't want to write about the war tonight. It seemed to me over the weekend that the most important thing being covered on television, in spite of the war, was the amazing NCAA tournament that's going on right now. Three number one seeds knocked out in two days. Cinderella stories abound. I'm so out of touch with reality. I didn't even realize that Marquette was a university in Wisconsin.
Three. My tummy hurts. Yummyache. I hate it when I think that I'm hungry, though I know upstairs in the Brain that I'm not hungry, yet I proceed to refuse to believe the Brain and eat anyways. I was so full tonight, then so thinking that I wasn't full, then ridiculously full again. Woe is me. I've got a yummyache. Silly, cold, freedom fries.
Four. Speaking of my brain ... I think that the cable company disconnected it. The light's are on, but it's all fuzzy and whatnot. Like a gigantic, ant marathon being view from above by an equally gigantic, ant-run blimp.
Up Next: The last half of the Royal Tenenbaums Original Motion Picture Soundtrack: Collector's Edition; ( ) by Sigur Ros; and, The Creek Drank the Cradle by Iron and Wine.
Tomorrow: Opening Day. Cubs at the NY Mets.
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbor-stained steel --
Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing for your veins!
-- The Prince in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, Act I Scene I
One. I received word this evening that Jesse, our militarily challenged companion, is actually being shipped off by the Army this time. I didn't get more than two or three words in on our phone conversation, so I couldn't tell you where he is going or what he'll be doing when he gets there. But I'm sure if anyone would like to fill his email inbox up with me by clicking [HERE], they would be more than welcome to. Kind words. Nice words, please. It's so strange to have such a close friend leaving for war.
Two. I don't want to write about the war tonight. Or at least I didn't want to write about the war tonight. It seemed to me over the weekend that the most important thing being covered on television, in spite of the war, was the amazing NCAA tournament that's going on right now. Three number one seeds knocked out in two days. Cinderella stories abound. I'm so out of touch with reality. I didn't even realize that Marquette was a university in Wisconsin.
Three. My tummy hurts. Yummyache. I hate it when I think that I'm hungry, though I know upstairs in the Brain that I'm not hungry, yet I proceed to refuse to believe the Brain and eat anyways. I was so full tonight, then so thinking that I wasn't full, then ridiculously full again. Woe is me. I've got a yummyache. Silly, cold, freedom fries.
Four. Speaking of my brain ... I think that the cable company disconnected it. The light's are on, but it's all fuzzy and whatnot. Like a gigantic, ant marathon being view from above by an equally gigantic, ant-run blimp.
Up Next: The last half of the Royal Tenenbaums Original Motion Picture Soundtrack: Collector's Edition; ( ) by Sigur Ros; and, The Creek Drank the Cradle by Iron and Wine.
Tomorrow: Opening Day. Cubs at the NY Mets.
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