People praise writing on paper to high heaven, but seldom do they think of the downside. There's a downside, you ask? Damn straight, there is. To wit: write on paper and you forget how to use the Internets.

A tragedy, I know.

I am but mad north-north-west.

Gather ye gardenias while ye may.

Midnight: went outside, spotted bobcat, went back inside.

The third of February, 2005: I paint my room. Or rather, repaint my room. But that's not right, either -- I apply that second coat of paint that I've been wanting for the past year and a half. A half! -- because, indeed, I do not paint my room. Instead, I paint merely half of it! Or rather, somewhat less than half ( Read more... )

altocumulus.

Winter! Crows overhead, robins everywhere, dozens of house wrens, the usual black vultures, the occasional bald eagle, the accipters on the hunt, the frenzied Canada geese flying by at 1:53 in the morning, the inexplicably present turkey vultures, that one peregrine a few weeks ago -- oh, the joy! Oh, the panic those red-shouldered hawks throw the ( Read more... )

Who the fuck ever said Dayquil was non-drowsy?

Well, golly gee.

And yes, I am suffering from a severe deficiency of monumental happenings to report. The most worthwhile thing that has come to pass 'round these parts has been the birth of a trio of wee baby finches to a pair of . . . well, other finches.