“Someday we'll find it…”

Connections made, missed, found, lost, and broken.

“…And what do we think we might see…”

NYC until Monday. Taking suggestions for next week’s adventuire.

Wanderlusting on.

Shrinkwrapped, cubbyholed, databased

“Did you know that…”

“If you could…”

Scatterbrained.
Say something.
Saying something.

…finish other people’s sentences, would you use that power for good or evil?

Filling the rest in, and closing my eyes to all else.

“The two men…navy blue robes…all was well.”

“I guess nothing can last forever…”

Senior year is not merely a culmination, not merely a goal: It is the horizon upon which prior years looks towards, gradually getting a clearer idea of what that period will consist of, yet is characterized predominantly by the fact that whatever lies beyond will be drastically different than it and what have gone before. For it does not merely culminate the prior 3 years, but all that have come before. Once time has elapsed and the mystery of what the future might hold has been pierced, the magic can never be recaptured. Anything left to happen must happen or be left undone. Senior year is the last gasp of the innocence of familiarity.

“…And if I had the choice / Yeah, I'd always wanna be there…”

City Museum 6pm-10pm tonight? Cell me if interested.

Pirates gratuitously use the subjunctive.

Walgreens: one stop shopping for all your piracy needs.

Riding shotgun with a shotgun and a jar of pickles.

We need a How’s my How’s my driving? hotline? hotline.

“i am in your X, Ying your Zs.”

X = bathroom

lol

Wandi here, wand’ring ends.
(Temporarily.)

I’m stationary.
She’s in reverse.

Cupcakes, Random Thai, sorceresses, glucose, HP5, jar of pickles, and over a dozen u-turns- and STL hasn’t been left yet.Traveling East until Saturday. If in Boston, NYC, or somewhere in between, give me a call.

Harry Potter 5 is easily the best in the series to date. While it is not without the usual divergences from the novels, the first half flows remarkably smoothly; the only disappointing ones occur at the end. Most of the movie felt like a movie, not merely the film version of a book. Still, some scenes make one wonder if the film producers truly understand the magic of the story.

Book 6, which I found disappointing compared to the other novels, might ironically be the best of the films; it seems it would capture the movies’ strengths while having the least expectation to overcome.

Needing a Delilah.

Schrödinger’s books: simultaneously marked up and marked down. They do not have a fixed price until they are scanned at the register.

Bonded.
Got paid.
Went bowling.
Got extra day off.
Had the fan repaired.
Got offered a promotion.
Laid on the grass on a nice summer evening, watching stars through the clouds, eating butterscotch frozen custard and talking with friends.

Sevenfold drought yields sevenfold prosperity.

Ratatouille is solid enough to seem like it should not need the ending monologue directed at critics. The main character has no romantic interest, and he also lacks the usual anthropomorphized sidekick; he instead is accompanied by an imaginary figment of his own mind, living in his own solitary world. Oddly, though without my disputing, the heir to French cooking is Italian.

“Rocketman, burning out his fuse up here alone…”

Birthmarks and bottle rockets, but other things are just as psychotic as they seem.

Instead of going to see “Transformers” last night, they went to see Chicago.
The musical?
No.
The city? For what?
Breakfast.

“Sometimes I feel I've got to / Run away…”

What better way to celebrate independence than to take a trip halfway across the country heedless of the return route.

“…For I toss and turn / I can't sleep at night…”
---
ETA 1 week, to somewhere in the Upper East Coast.

“You were talk, talk, talk, talking in circles that day…”

Some days start stupid, some days achieve stupidity, and some days have stupidity thrust upon them.

“…When you get to the point make sure that I'm still awake…”

Plural memories.

“I’m not American. I don't get paranoid.”
I am American. I get paranoid of non-Americans.

Just because you’re not paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.

“...I'm not sick, but I'm not well...”