“1) BLEND the softened margarine*, rice milk**, and frosting mix at medium speed for 2 minutes, occasionally scraping the bowl.

* Substitute dairy free margarine or butter† according to your needs.
** Substitute plain soy milk or milk† according to your needs.
† Unless you are allergic to this ingredient.”

Step 1: Concoct a series of proclamations allegedly coming from divine authority.
Step 2: ?
Step 3: Prophet!
Step 4: Realize with a quick google that your cleverness is unfortunately not original.

We have a linguistic disconnect. I can't date anyone who I am unable to explain to that I can’t date someone who would refer to dating as “having a girl”.

We had a metaphor together: it was a relationship that did not use the word “like”.

“I am (metaphor). / Actually, I’m (extended metaphor).”

Calypso discovered MirrorCat. They are not going to be BFFs any time soon.
She inherited that from me.
MirrorYou inherited that from MirrorHer.

What you see is what you get.

Walking across the street at 1am and buying orange juice makes one officially a resident of a city, officially defined as a place which has the Onion for free on street corners.

Day 375
Hamster gets stuck under futon.
Human gets rid of futon.
Hamster gets stuck under bed.
Human gets rid of bed.
Human goes to Chicago.
Hamster goes to Chicago.
Cat goes to Chicago.
Human gets new futon.
Human gets new bed.
Hamster gets new bedding.
Cat looks in mirror.
Cat hides under bed.

Here we go.

Current standings
1) Human
2) Hamster
3) Cat

With who I was getting a ride from.

I say Morocco, he says surprising. It’s like a reflex.

“Break ground, buckle down / It's time…”
Time runs out.
“…Let's move from this underground / Shed some of this blacklight to surrounding towns…”
Go forth and shine.
“…How much responsibility do you bear / For the ill…”
Across state lines.
“…Line up, state your name, state your claims, claim your stakes…”
Get while the giving’s good.
“…Look ahead now / Oh, let the countdown usher / The philanthropic mimes…”
Nothing left to say.
“…And scrape the paint that hides the crimes / Of a silent kind…”
Let everything go.
“…Is the position that you hold one that could parallel / A synergistically greater plan? / Or would it force us all to be packed…”
The hourglass empties.
“…In a sloping, quickly given golden sand…”

“I want to know how Shakespeare in the Park's production of Hamlet is.”
I want to see it instead of packing and waiting for craigslist buyers and whining about how my final hours in STL are being spent packing and waiting for craigslist buyers instead of seeing it.

I never meta-reference I didn’t like.

When they ask for non-related references, I sometimes put Aunt L[].
I hope you just put L[].

Whoever designed the layout for yesterday’s NYT front cover should be shot.

What kind of answer are craigslist buyers looking for when they ask “Is the desk available?” Not just fraudspam- these are real people who seem to be expecting a certain reply, and I’m running out of guesses. Yes? Yes + Location? Yes + repeating contact information? No?

Economy of words.

'Is the desk available, because I don’t want it.' I mean, really, who does that? Why not, 'What’s a good time for me to not pick it up?', or 'How much won’t I be paying to not take it?'.

“I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment's gone…”

Don’t look back. The only visible part of the past lost to the present will be messes needing cleaning, and those get swept away regardless of what is done.

“…Everything is dust in the wind…”

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…”

Lost was the exploration of fantastic characters and plot. Halfway throught the pilot episode I was captivated by the correspondence of the questions “wherefore the polar bear?” and “whence the gun?”, and the pacing of the reveal of answers with the posing of new questions was remarkable, given the medium.

The weakest moments were explorations of plotless aspects of characters, or of characterless moments of plots. And this narrative flaw unfortunately was highlighted in the final season’s gimmick. Perhaps being too ambitious, or perhaps the original concept being unworkable led to massive late rewriting, but for whatever reason, the character/plot narratives got increasingly divorced, with neither half satisfying. And there are always quibbles of some unresolved mystery.

It is unfortunate for what did so incredibly well to have periods of detriment, especially in its final year, but it nevertheless ends with satisfying nostalgia. The 6 years between Fall 2004 until now have been an adventure; it’s time to leave the island.

“…Once was lost, but now I’m found / I was blind, but now I see…”

Read “Lost Books of the Odyssey” a narrative deconstruction of the Odyssey, Odysseus, Troy, and Homer. Each of the microshort stories pulls out a strand of epic, with which to weave a clever alternative within the most basic framework of the classics. The subtleties of this cleverness, required of any proper retelling of the tales of Odysseus and of Homer, tingle the spine with appreciation: even without the dactylic meter, this wonder is what the Muse infused into the Odyssey.

Uploading photos is a sure sign of procrastinating packing.

Everything must go.

“The time has come to say fair's fair / To pay the rent now, to pay our share…”

A piece into place: even with so much of an unknown journey to be embarked upon, one destination is known.

A place, and peace: one fewer reason to be sleepless.

“…How can we dance when our earth is turning / How do we sleep while our beds are burning…”

“Solicitiing and gambling are prohibited on CTA vehicles.”

Sending out sublet inquiries, and calculating odds for responses.

“Hot summer streets and the pavements are burning / I sit around / Trying…”

One tries to find what one doesn’t have, but one can’t know something until one has that experience; for experience is the greatest teacher, and the greatest ignorance is regarding oneself; and ignorance begets cruelty.

It’s trying, sometimes.

“…It's a cruel, cruel summer / Leaving…”

Daring to share, I was
Saddened because
My ears hear echoes of a buzz
You don’t, one which he does.

I don’t like writing. I like thinking, he thought and wrote.

Read “Overqualified” which is, appropriately enough, both more and less clever than I was hoping. It is half satire, half narrative of unique medium; unfortunately, the interplay between the halves des not extend past the initial amazement. Unhypocritically, I’ll take it.

A comic about how a fake wikipage about a word about the creation of fake words from improper usage satires the creation of wikipages from lack of notability. Then a real wikipage is created because it's notable, but only for having a fake wikipage in the comic satirizing non-notable pages. Then, the deletion of the real wikipage becomes notable because of the fact that it has been deleted, so the result is a wikipage that lacks encyclopedic content: a redirect which fails to explain the term, and a link to a discussion on the proper usage of a redirect!

Oh my God everyone what are you doing.

Semifortnightly.

“It’s been one week since you looked at me…”

Stretchy in the library with a mandolin.

All the classic warning signs: punching a street sign, massive wandering through NYC, asking me for advice.

Well it's just how I struggle with being seen, you know. How we feel and worry about others judging us, but people really don't. I don't know. It wrapped around on itself and got a little lost, so I can't much explain it.
Oh poor little idea. Ideas need shepherds. I mean, please tell me you can see the little idea shepherd tending to its flock?
They live in the pillow from my living room at Rosebury.

Dreams are meant to be silent, forgotten, or realized- not explained.

A decent setup and a Queensland Chief Justice away from making an original “Owed on a Grecian Earn” joke.

le sigh.
sighicus.

Chaos is the craziness between one breath and the next.

Doesn’t work in Italian, though: sighco.

“You’ll probably move right through / Me on my way…”

A dark lit place: the empty shadows of spines and faces, down the silent entomed aisles. The shroud of a false form is removed, and pinned to an empty wall. Memories are cleared out, what’s forgotten swept away, and the rest is peace. For Orpheus knew it a mistake to look back, but at least then he will have seen what will be lost as he exits the underworld. And then it’s over.

“…I’m not paralyzed…”

I just worked here.

All natural cola is a cross between flat Coke and flavored carbonated water, with the best qualities of each.

I can't remember the last time I was so enrapt by a book that I couldn't wait for my legs to stop moving before reading, until I’m interrupted by P[]'s voice on my walk home, asking if it's Latin; I instinctively apologize that it isn't (even though he's clearly kidding with that K[]-tone where you have to force your mind to accept the possibility that he's not serious) and show him the cover, and he nods and says that I'll like his poems.

The monster loves his labyrinth.

I'm afraid to quote, because I have to pick one, and then what if I pick one that you don't like, and you don't understand why I like it. (But, you do understand. Because you like things too.) The other option is to pick one for me instead of for you, but that's like asking, what's your favorite 1% of this painting- and could you rush your decision before seeing the entirety?

“I see no changes…”

A whirlwind afternoon, forgetting the morning.
New conversations in the final hours at the gates of the castle, recounting rediscovered explorations.
The sudden sodden rain, danced through a world short an umbrella.
Identity, so desperately trying to be reestablished, before the ultimatum given.
The introduction or closure good host Present so wants to give between guests Past and Future.

“…But things change, and that’s the way it is…”

Metamorphoses

“…Things’ll never be the same, that’s just the way it is…”

Date Night is incredibly funny when the person with who one is seeing it, when responding to her roommate asking where she is going, inadvertently conflates the name of the movie as “Hot Date”.

"I just realized I was thinking of Hot Tub Time Machine."

It’s like the classic that we always kick ourselves over, for not being the person who does the obvious-in-retrospect acts of creation and distribution that we all should be capable of, if we just had a little more courage and a lot less shame.

An Open Letter to My Future Employer.

After every sentence, I wanted to say, I’ve thought that myself. And then I read the end and I wanted to say, I’ve thought that too.

Day 333
Human goes to work.
Human gets Hamster.
Human leaves work.

Exit interview, pursued by a hamster.

Current standings
1) Human
2) Hamster
3) Cat

“Are you working tomorrow?”
Yes.
“Are you working Friday?”
Yes.
“Do you know J[] and B[] are coming again Friday?”
Yes
“Do you want a hamster?”
<pause> Sure.

Take your hamster to work day.

There are 2 kinds of people: those who like brown bananas and those who like green bananas.

Primary goal: get out a quick and painless cover letter by Monday.
Secondary goal: get out a quick or painless cover letter by Monday.

I always include liking free food in all my applications.

“I’m out of time…”
Only one resource is not renewable.
“…I want somebody to speed it up for me, then take it down slow…”
Only time and what others do are beyond control.
“…If you want it, you already got it / If you’ve thought it, it better be what you want…”
Only by second-guessing a decision can what is truly wanted be known.
“…Sometimes I think what I need is a you intervention…”
Only fresh eyes see the obvious.
“….And that it’s good, by the way that you move…”
Only movement defeats inertia.
“…The road to hell is paved with good intentions…”
Only by considering motivation does consideration outweigh action.
“…Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock / Breakdown…”
Writer’s block only becomes significant when some other choice takes precedent over the purpose of the words.
“…Only got 4 minutes to save the world…”

Epiphany: the idea of telling a story.

“She saw herself reflected in the store window & then the sun changed & she disappeared & all she could see was her eyes & she remembered thinking, I make a very nice floor lamp & that was the day she decided to quit her job.”

“A good bookshop is just a genteel black hole that knows how to read."

“Sometimes I get nervous when I see an open door…”

To skydive: with parachute strapped on, take a breath and a step, and come down to earth again.

“…Close your eyes / Clear your heart / Cut the cord…”

“Let's dance to Joy Division / And celebrate the irony…”

I hate songs that have dissonant components, unless done right.

“…Everything is going wrong, but we're so happy…”

I am especially excited about the “& Tea” portion.

Let the rest follow a seat and a sip.

If I ever run a British tea shoppe, it’s going to be called Passersby & Onlookers.

Punctuators Anonymous.

I have to restrain myself from adding semicolons in casual conversation.
I put a backslash in my resume.

Serve me up a Frosted Mini-Wheat, barman: heavy on the mini, hold the frosted.

It's sad, the moment you realize something isn't perfect. I suppose I was idealizing, so I guess maybe it's good that I've shattered that now. It's like, when special guest actor returns for an episode, and it's awesome, and then the episode is winding up and character makes some plot reason why they're getting written back out, and you're like, but, can't you stay just a little longer, special guest actor? Look how much fun we're having? Can't we keep hanging out some more? Because I had forgotten how much I missed you until I heard your voice again, so why is your voice going so soon?

All children, except one, grow up.

I had to explain to someone what the bees’ knees were. Would you rather have the head of Al Gore, or use outdated expressions in everyday speech?

With A Special Guest Appearance by the Voice of Danny as Himself

Would that I wrote cover letters like I write e-mails and bad poetry.

No hamster just yet. Got some chocolate cake instead. This is a haiku.

I shall be deleting this unheard
Somewhere hours and hours hence.
Two cover letters diverged in Word,
And I- unsure which is preferred.
And yet, it may make no difference.

There is good bad poetry and there is bad bad poetry, and “B is for Bad Poetry” is 80% the former. Indeed, I wish to see a neofuturistic recital of its appreciable contents.

A long way away fling
Everything
Higher I aspired to, one spring,
Untie. (A knotty string.)

“I go crazy, crazy, baby, I go crazy…”

Crazy expands to fill the available space.

“…Packing up your stuff / And talking like it's tough / And trying to tell me that it's time to go…”

“Love game, intuition, play the cards…”

In a perfect world, forethought or luck earns reward. In an imperfect world, it’s procrastination or unluckiness. Anything wagered is with hope of compensation: put up with a risk, receive a reward of money- or prestige, or time, or a good experience, or even just learning one of life’s lessons. But reward is distinct from earning. For sometimes the best hand wins; sometimes the best played hand wins, and ranking isn’t an orderly progression based on probability.

In a perfect world, there are no games; only games.

“…Can’t read my / No he can’t read my poker face…”

Vaguely foggy is whatever the opposite of an oxymoron is.

“Heads I go to class, tails I skip.”
<coin lands heads>
“Best 2 of 3?”
<coin lands heads>
“Best 3 of 5?”
<coin lands edge and rolls under a fixture>
“God’s like, go to class already.”

The trick is to go at it with no pressure. That, and just do it anyway even when it’s not as effective or good.

“It will stop beeping if you close the door or it gets bored.”

“You’re allowed to walk out of one place. Any more than that establishes a reputation. But you get one.”

Meatloaf may be well and good and cleverly creatively savory, but clearly the answer which would make everyone happy is cupcakery.

“My perfect woman would be a 28 year old Julia Child.”

When having words with friends, informational and conversational correctness are 2 different concepts. Context can make something pedantically accurate incredibly wrong.

Taking communion is not kosher for Passover. Either transubstantiation is false, and therefore it's leavened. Or transubstantiation is true, and therefore it's risen.

Of course, a Jew can't have a happy Easter, since it contains yeast during Passover.

“For the benefit of Mr. Kite / There will be a show tonight on trampoline…”

Bouncing up, bouncing up.

“…The celebrated Mr. K / Performs his feat on Saturday and Bishopsgate…”

Thanks for inviting. It’s an honor to be asked.

“…Misters K and H assure the public / Their production will be second to none…”

We are gentlemen. So I’ve heard.

“…Ten somersaults he'll undertake on solid ground…”

Roll out, roll out.

“…A splendid time is guaranteed for all…”

“It's not worth being awake unless you are having fun or being productive.”

Bedtime story.

And they lived happily ever after probably in Chicago. The end.

It’s funny because it’s true.

A man walks into a bar and sees a nun spinning wool behind the counter. The man asks for a drink, but the nun just obliviously keeps on spinning. The man waits a few moments and asks for a drink again, but she’s just keeps on spinning. The man asks a third time, louder, but she just goes on spinning obliviously. Not sure what to do, he shouts at her to stop spinning and pour him a drink. The nun looks up and says… “This is becoming a habit.”

How lazy can I be.

“We’ll start the Seder on page 9. Ignore all the stuff about Thomas Jefferson and Abraham Lincoln on page 8.”

Go around the table and state your name and an uninteresting fact about yourself.

“How are we passing? Clockwise, counterclockwise?”
“By age? Height?”
”Alphabetically?”
“Yes.”

The moral of Passover: In case of emergency, break lamb.

Love to flirt, hate to date.

Will Eno plays are strangely appropriate to be hijacked into freely seeing by virtue of bearing free cookies.

And now for something completely different.

Taking too much validation-needing pleasure in subversively placing a small copy of Machiavelli on a Saint-Exupery endcap.

“Only children know what they are looking for.”

If I get evicted or killed before March 31, I’m blaming the Commerce Department.

“How quickly can you mobilize?”
For free ice cream? Immediately.

What do I do normally.

“You got to stop once in a while / And shake off that face of yours…”

Past time for a new look.

“…I'm no genius and I've lost myself / The books are on the table and the secret's on the shelf…”

“Meet me on the equinox…”

So done with this season.

“…Everything, everything ends…”

Like a poker tournament, life every so often advances to a new stage, where blinds increase, lower denominations get cashed out as irrelevant, and the previous wagers feel inconsequential compared to what currently is at stake. What really matters gets honed and pared away the longer one stays in the game. And yet, the truth that takes the entirety to discover is that the value of the markers is immaterial. What really matters is longevity. The only true currency is time.

Never has $5 seemed so worthless.

Ou la la, notre madamoiselle est, qu’est ce c’est, abroad? Mon dieu! Voilà, le “C[] Is Too Good For This” Petit Dejeuner:

“Puis je comment allez vous” croissants.

“Je m’appelle Louis Pasteurizé“ milk.

“Comme ci comme ça avec mon coeur” omelette.

“Il y a un beaucoup des au revoir” crepes.

“Parlez vous la bibliotheque de ma tante des pourquoi plus cette chemise sur la tableau” French toast.

Rather be lucky than good; but rather feel good than lucky.

Yesterday’s opportunities will be here tomorrow. Today is today.

Jon’s Principle of Non-non-confrontation
If there’s something which for the relationship’s sake you’re keeping yourself from saying to someone, then for the relationship’s sake say it.

Come to bury, not to praise.

$2000 elephant stuffed animal!
Haha FAO?
Museum gift shop.

In the nether hour between last and next season, the mammoth perfection of this past refreshingly awesomely fun week comes full circle. Let that not end.

Also, on bus back to STL. (Me, not the elephant.)

Saw Alice in Wonderland. There is no theme of drugs and just a forced red herring theme of dreams, but much more forced is the story about a girl’s relationship with a paternal figure. For this is a story about a girl’s rejection of patriarchial society; as much as Johnny Depp may be the Mad Hatter, he should not be so central a character. Alice’s strongest connection should be with the White Queen. Although, having spent most of the movie trying to decide whether I liked or didn’t like the un-Carrollian plot, I ultimately decided the former; but more importantly, at no point was there doubt about whether I enjoyed it, with unfading smiles worthy of a worthy Cheshire Cat.

Too Much Light or a spritz of water directly in the face Makes The Baby Go Blind provided it gets there in time to get one and just one ticket.

Mimesophobia I was at first worried would, being so meta, duplicate too much the ideas that I had, ironically titularly. But fortunately the play explored that different conflict- the competition of narrative between every author except the subject.

Why is there a dinosaur in the back seat?
“Because R[] has an ex-bf in Romania.”

A Brontosaur on Pluto is like showing up on the doorstop asking to wash out the bloodstains from a misstep twixt station and train; like a free doughnut on the way to getting a good taco salad, repaying when a taco salad got you good; like reading on the concerte shore of Lake Michigan with skyscrapers drifting in the fog to the notes of Viva La Vida as the March sun shines a peek of 70F warmth; like pulling up chairs when the host isn't there; like getting an extra umbrella because it's no longer raining; like finding excuses to stay; like finding reasons to leave; like that hedgehog story that everyone has.

A Brontosaur on Pluto is something that isn’t really somewhere that isn’t really; and therefore it is.

“Go big or go home.”

“I tried to sleep in the rain, underneath an acorn tree, but the drops kept falling, hitting me, as I slipped further unconsciously, into a world of windy dreams…”

Chicago escapism.

“…My mind, I took it to Chicago…”

“Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart / When I want to run away…”

Time for a new look.

“…In your eyes…”

"I don't understand what I'm doing here in the first place! I'm not a writer, I'm a monkey!"
"Would you mind if I sit here till he or she or it comes?"
"A mountain-climber's axe! A mountain-climber's axe! CAN'T I GET THAT THROUGH YOUR SKULL?"
"Corngranulations. Ya kooch di anda. Epp! Viola-dimir da zamplification forum. / Well I'm not sure I'm ready to apply just yet..."
"I go up to the counter, the guy says what can I do for you, I say, Give me a bottle of aspirin. The guy gives me this funny look and he says, 'Oh, we don't have that, sir.'"
"Isn't that / Think it is / Yes I need / Help you sir / Isn't that / Think it is / Yes I need / Help you sir"

All in the timing.

"You can always throw in a few jokes later on. You gotta get the throughline first."
"I like to think of myself as a citizen of the universe. / (Bell.)"
"It gives you a little hope about the world, doesn't it? That a man could have a mountain-climber's axe smashed into his skull, and yet live on for one whole day?"
"Okay, maybe we speak the same language, but it's nonsense!"
"Because in a Philadelphia, no matter what you ask for, you can't get it. You ask for something, they're not going to have it. You want to do something, it ain't going to get done. You want to go somewhere, you can't get there from here."
"Just a moment / It's time / Please / Let's go / Just a moment / It's time / Please / Let's go"

Dolls priced at $3 should not differ only in one certain way from those priced at $5. That ratio has no rationalization.

“You know you can't keep letting it get you down…”

This too shall pass.

“…Let it go…”

“I've got no expectations / To pass through here again…”

Saying that something went as expected depends on the expectation. The tone and the history can each connote contextually, but the response is as much a reflection of the audience as it is of the speaker. The undefined expectation gets accepted without unchallenged so often, it’s rather surprising when the evasion is actually called out with a follow-up.

“Step one, you say…”
One foot in front of the other.
“…We need to talk…”
Interview, and so much unsaid.
“…Begin to wonder why you came…”
Tired of trying to be someone I’m not.
“…Lay down a list of what is wrong…”
After 6 years, where I was 6 years ago: trying to be where I was 6 years ago.
“…Drive until you lose the road / Or break…”
One foot in front of the other.
“…How to save a life…”

Acknowledging the wave, but not getting the buzz.

You can’t judge a song by its cover.

There’s a lot of difference between getting a lot out of this and getting out of this.

Apparently someone is working on the apartment door, but it sounded like there was a sneezing elephant outside my apartment. Now excuse me while I look up sneezing elephants on youtube, because I don't know actually how sneezing elephants sound.

Breakfastfest.

“I remember the song where the rats sang along / And danced for their daily bread…”

Daily: adjective or adverb? Battlelines drawn, and with sanity in the balance, let the daily manner be debated, checked, and proofread with the mindnumbingness of a routine life-changing obsession that probably won’t matter. The scream of “aaaaaah” doesn’t accompany understanding, just grammatical irrevocability.

Give us this day our daily free pancake.

“…And the only thing left / Was to flee from the nest…”

“I look at the floor, and I see it needs sweeping…”

Some things need to be moved, some need moving.

“…I look at the world, and I notice it’s turning…”

Just a little fine tuning.

“…While my guitar gently weeps…”

Secret shopper/agent.

Convergence.

There’s nothing like the feeling that, by pausing to inquire about the possibility of ordering Orangina before approaching the cute girl sitting alone, one has narrowly avoided hitting on the bartender’s gf.

Playing for Team Spoiler.

I like to think that somewhere, somehow, Dara and Siele are happy together.