I see the old and haggard commuters on the Port Jervis line. I hear the young couple talking and laughing and the're loving it. Joe Gannon does not like the angry conducter who oversees the late night runs. I read about the 2 degree of the Freemasons from a web site printout. 17 pages of low grade office paper. You can't highlight it either, makes the ink run. Lou said we are all looking older. I agree, and I'm in flux. Sometimes not. Wiser? Most likely. It's an infinite game. A game you can't lose as JS and PS say. Indeed.

The drowning force of sleep keeps me the opposite of awake these nights. Dreams are thick with vividness, my unconscious is releasing some hot new information. Keep'in it close to the concrete as Funk Flex says.

I watched Napoleon Dynomyte and Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle this past weekend. No comments really. Except for the excellent scene where Neil Patrick Harris flys by in Harold's stolen car doing a line of coke off of a naked stripper's ass, which is clearly cinematic homage to this. We all know who this years Best actor is going to...

There's a jar of fortunes that sits unexamined on a shelf next to my computer desk.
The printer needs to be fed it's bottle of magenta.
More green tea please.