Damn it. Put on real pants and go.

“I don’t understand why zombies eat brains.”
It makes perfect sense.
“How?”
For the same reason that humans eat muscles.
“That actually does make a lot of sense.”

It may take 30 minutes, but the common loon is clearly deadly.

“Drove to Chicago…”

Singled with a win after a long SI hiatus, with the following chain. [Ask if any connection needs explaining.]

George W. Bush
Jenna Bush
Jena 6
James VI
Stuart Little
Mr. Big
God
Chuck Norris
Chuck Taylors
Keds
K-Fed
Britney Spears
William the Conqueror
Norman Mailer
Neil Postman
Will Wright
SimCity
Phil Simms
Disney World
Orlando Bloom
Legolas
Jenna Elfman
the Dharma Initiative
"Lost"
George W. Bush

It’s a good time to reassociate.

“…All things go, all things go / To recreate us…”

I could use a few days to breathe and sleep. Actually, I could likewise use a few minutes, hours, weeks, months, or years. But I’ll take what I can get.

Only a matter of time.

I have a silly superstitition whereby I let my graded exams and assignments cool off for a certain number of hours before I look at them. I think it’s because I believe that the result is determined by how well a day I’m having then, not by how well a day I’m having when the test is taken.

Only a matter of time.

This is the part of the midterm where my handwriting gets very bad and my logic loses focus and omg I’m out of time

“We need to travel back in time and make you go to Hopkins so that you help us build me a time machine.”
Except I got into Hopkins because I couldn’t have a time machine.
“There are 2^n parallel universes, in one of which all of us are at Hopkins. It is the responsibility of us in the other universes to bring our parallel selves together. Because I really need a time machine.”
I empathize. Fine, I’m in- but only to morally enforce a no-diverging-timelines policy.

Only a matter of time.

Jewish race : clown :: drunk David Spade : time machine

“You have 3 12-hours clocks. One gains a minute every day, one loses a minute every day, and one doesn’t work. Which is most accurate?”

Only a matter of time.

Can I meta the question?
“Can you meta the question?”
Ooh please ooh please let me.
“<sigh>”
Taking the first derivative of the first 2 clocks’ accuracy with respect to time shows them to be equal. Therefore, since the question implies a single answer, it must be the third clock.

Only a matter of time.

I’m starting a number-of-days-without-walking-into-a-refrigerator count.

“Frankly, I prefer emoticons to the written word, and if you disagree :( “

I’m not sure whose cleverness I more appreciate.

Switch.

“Do not think of bringing your parents to class. I warn you. That would be a mistake.”

I have to keep the lies I’m telling straight and the lies I’m not telling straight. When would I have time to be honest?

Sometimes you’ve just got to call an ex-best friend an egotistic whore.
(Still not about you.)

“You’re so vain…”

Life is full of drama; find the chorus and make it a comedy. Keep on dancing. Keep on laughing.

“Carry on, carry on dancing…”

Long-form : pizza :: short-form : half-eaten pizziola sandwich in a trash can

“That’s racist, and sexist, and 4-bit graphics.”

Wrong on so many levels.

It’s so funny how much none of it matters. It’s just, well, *funny*.

Since when did you become an optimist?
“I’m an optimist? That sucks. <pause> Actually, it’s not so bad.”

Free improv show tonight, 8pm, Brown 100. If you made it through the week, be there.

I've had better days and worse weeks.

Live your life like a bad interview.

“The problem with going to the Career Center for career advice is that you’re getting career advice from people whose career is working in the Career Center.”

Classics.

“PDFs are more secure. With a PDF I can’t just change your answers to lower your grade.”

Ambiguously vague.

“If you need to write more than 250 words, take out the prepositions.”
“Is that syntactically allowed?”
“This isn’t syntax.”

Cameras steal Lupe Fiasco’s soul.

Will wake for food.

If you have an offcampus mealplan, you should not be using points to eat breakfast.

“That’s right, when I put my foot down…”
It takes a while for it to hit the ground.

This is why I’m kept around.

“I’m not sure whether to start right now or to treasure the pristine collection.”
Choose what the 6 most memorable occasions of your life will be, and save them for them.
“The revolution and the first 5 purges.”
But what’s the 6th?
“Good! Although I was thinking along the lines of ‘Shame to use them all within 2 days.’.”

“Bacon is a vegetable.”
“Is that a reference to Francis Bacon?”

“You can’t say there are 4 mutton walking across the lawn. Because they wouldn’t be mutton.”

“Every time I eat salad I feel myself get a little bit stupider.”

Hungry for linguistics.

Any Tuesday with only minor surgery is a good Tuesday.

Every time it gets recorded you’ll hope, and every time it has been recorded you’ll wonder, if just one time a 9 gets recorded as a spare.

Scruffy came back and it’s only September.

Lamb is good.
Kreplah is good.
Good things are good.

“I remember when / I remember…”

Reroute: In the same place someplace else.

“…And I hope that you are having the time of your life / But think twice…”

“This mood of yours is temporary…”

Again I Go / Unnoticed

“…’cause if it's more than that, I fear that I might break…”

Don’t do anything you wouldn’t do.

“You will soon witness a miracle.”

Martyr’s μαρτυρ.

“You will make many changes before settling satisfactorily.”

Heard those words before.

“Chomsky is the Chuck Norris of linguistics.”

You move, remove my hand,
Turn from me, stand,
Replace embrace with distance and
I don’t quite understand.

Exit, pursued by a Wolf.

I got thirsty on my way to class, so I stopped for a glass of water, and then I saw you talking, and I considered dumping it on you. But I wasn’t sure how you’d take it. So, for the future: when should I not?
“If it’s cold. Or windy. Or if I’m wearing something nice, though you probably don’t need to worry about that.”
Okay.
<waits 4 seconds>
<throws water in face>
<runs>

        
           

Replace.

“If I had it all again…”

Nothing left.
Everything inside.
Nothing right.

“…Breathe in / Breathe out / Breathe in / Breathe out…”

Friday Freakout.

Callback to an earlier scene.

A garden tries to take something perfect and show it perfectly; the resulting hyperreality is ruinously imperfect. The untamed chaos of nature is presented as if it were order. Mystery is hidden with species and genus labeled. Beauty is kept in stasis; ugliness is seen. And with order disrupted, there is chaos: planned paths and aesthetic arrangement are misleading and aimless. Eve was right. Lilith was wrong. Life doesn’t begin in a garden; death does.

“I will buy you a garden…”

“Washing machines can be tiresome.”

Semantics and dirty laundry.

“Only 2 things exist, and 1 of them doesn’t.”

It’s not complicated.

a) Dinner on the loop
b) Listening to blues
c) Watching Firefly
d) All of the above

Yogurt + smoked salmon + whipped cream + shredded cheese + chocolate shavings - dill

“<!-- Web.Config Configuration File -->

<configuration>
    <system.web>
        <customErrors mode="Off"/>
    </system.web>
</configuration>”

I want to go to a place where things are how they were and nothing I do will make them change.

That's about what I'd expect a bear hugging a dog would look like.

“Please try again at a later time or right now.”

I want to go to a place where things are how they were and nothing I do will make them change.

“I want you to lead me…”

I want to go to a place where things are how they were and nothing I do will make them change.

“…Take me somewhere…”

Needing a lot of things. Time is either all of them or none of them.

Somehow, there’s always laundry to be done.

The problem with happiness is that it’s never satisfied: once you have it, you want more of it.

It thinks it’s a comedy. It’s not.

“Let's give them something to talk about…”

read.me

“…A little mystery to figure out…”

Have a seat.

I see the world in orange.

The worst thing about packing is that it leads to unpacking.

In an earlier Away Message I claimed: I am a big believer in Free Stuff.
Yet I hate packing, which is bad because it consists of being Free and having Stuff.
I’m not sure which the problem is: believe, or I am.

It has taken me 3 years for me to realize that this is just like junior year, last year was just like sophomore year, and 2 years ago was just like freshman year.

Indianapolis until Sunday. Free stuff, stuff, free. Then let everything make sense.

“Margin of error is not my fish.”

Please tell everyone your name, where you’re from, your favorite color, and a 7-10 minute summary of your ideal dissertation topic.

(And which stairwell of the Chase Park Plaza.)

A Game of 20 Rhetorical Questions
“1) What has the world come to?
2) How could you?
3) Are you crazy?
4) Why, Frank, why?
5) Can you blame him?
6) Why not?
7) Is that what you want?
8) Can’t you read?
9) That’s it?
10) What do you care?
11) Are you kidding?
12) Isn’t that nice?
13) Aren’t you the clever one?
14) Is that so?
15) You?
16) Me?
17) Her?
18) Wendy?
19) Her?
20) You call that a horse?

(Answer: a pony)”

“A[], where y’at? I wish you pick up the phone.
‘Cause I need my money straight up. I mean,
Do I got to come up to Pizza Hut?
Or do I need to meet you and my sister
Down there so we go to your babysitter?
Which one is it? I mean, call me back.
Let me know something. ‘Cause the way I feel,
I feel like you just trying to dupe me
Now. You and that little a-rab. So…
I ain’t gonna let that ride, though, you dig?
You need to call me back. <long pause>
That’s 50 bucks you owe me. Fuck, I know you.
I don’t want that. I want my money, man.”

[An audio version is available. Let me know if interested.]

If you need someone to tell you to not be a fool and give it a try: don’t be a fool and give it a try.

Disco ball, and dancing about it.

(Retro, active, raised.)

“I can’t do this all on my own…”

Scrubs is a strange mix of comedic and dramatic that I feel I perceived unintendedly. The reality of it beats down so unceasingly that it is impossible to not at least appreciate.

“Aw, damn. I missed the annual sleepover, didn't I? That wonderful time of year when you two crazy kids throw caution to the wind and make sweet elbowy love to each other."

I need a raise, a shower, and a nap.

Absolutely, naught.
On again, ‘off.
Blackjack, some other time.

“Let it be noted that even when no one else has class, G[] has class.”

I want a fake ID for my 21st birthday.

(Seriously.)

“I'm not going to be civil…”
Not happy.
“…I’m so gone…”
Keep coming back.
“…Did you hear about Vegas…”
Not this year.
“…A grey is starting to plague us / And it won’t be long…”
Almost over.
“…You just do what you do just to survive…”
Be lucky.
“…Holding out for something I can’t feel…”
Be independent.
“…Yes, and I’m so gone…”
A place where I can live.
“…My feet just drag me home…”

50 Euros : 50 Gyros :: Gyro House : Our House.

“Basically, whoever gets there first should order 3 gyros.”
That’s a good idea on principle.

“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...”

Ocean’s 13, having seen the 11th but not the 12th, is enjoyable like the first, for again it offers a simply pure plot. The pacing of the plot does feel a little uneven, like it suffers from too much momentum: things fail and succeed as if set by a strict linear relationship. Oddly, though, it is the absence of characterization which makes it feel empty. The first film handled this component neutrally, as if the plot were let to unfold without regard to character. But here, characterization seems almost deliberately checked for an established plot. In a way, this reflected in the title: 11 were 11 people, but 13 is 2 sequels past an established number.

Left/Right
Male/Female
Red/Bravman

At first it seems obvious that cats would use the subjunctive: “I would claw at your leg, if I could do so without having to move.” But then one realizes that they probably don’t even need the indicative. To a cat, the imperative is sufficient: “Move.”

At least by switching to business I’ll be able to balance my checkbook. Whereas if I did engineering, I’d be able to fix my car. Which is also a useful skill, I suppose.

Getting to work.

I missed the 2. I missed the 44.

Why don’t they have a copier that also holepunches?
They do.

There should be a system to deal with incompetent underpaid apathetic central officers misfiling German dictionaries in the science-fiction fantasy section.

Should we use our 400 Schnucks napkins or our 600 Vanity Fair napkins?
I should be all we should use our whatever napkins in case we have a blah-de-blah, but I don’t care right now.