“Sometimes I sleep / Sometimes it’s not for days…”

The 77, like the most trusted steeds, knows when not to bear its rider into danger.

“…I’m a cowboy / On a steel horse I ride…”

Saw “The Three Faces of Doctor Crippen”, a delightfully triplicated play. The schizophrenetic emphasis on the number, while not ever explicitly more than a gimmick, amusingly permeates the characters, chorus, and audience. The Seussically rhythmed dialogue adds to the enjoyment of the dark comedy.

Not Brothers & Sisters, but could have been; and in some ways, perhaps better: somewhere between real and idealized, to be ended in 4 years, enjoyable without attachment, and therefore comforting in familiarity.

“I am the only audience member.”
I’m the only actor. It’s hard for both of us.

Half an hour passes very quickly.

Too much light? Pah fah the course.

“I’m good to go…”

Working a Saturday is a good experience, especially for the reminder of how grateful to be for usually having Saturdays off.

“…I can’t sleep / In the wake of Saturday…”

I’m in an episode of Lost. I board the 423 bus. The woman in the seat in front of me has a few pages torn from a massmarket paperback she’s annotating. It’s weird so I take a closer look, but all I can see is that the top one is page 423. It’s 4:23pm. The bus is totally going to crash onto an island.

Flashback candidates.

It’s a Pace bus, too. Clever writers.

"hi team"
"you've been working hard"
"here's some toffee"
"you can go now"

Given a tapas restaurant, find the minimum party size for ordering the menu.

The purpleline’s heated seats are as an apology for the blueline’s traitorous obnoxiousness.

“I refuse to compare people to public transportation. Unless it is in regards to size. Because I have described people as being as big as a bus before.”

The & Company is literal.

Amissum haud immemoratum umquam cordi.

Yay being able to use a Classics degree.
“I hope you get to use it again some time for more than 10 minutes.”
heh I take what I can get. Or, rather: it's lost but not forgotten, forever in my heart.

Hamletmachine fractures a story into its most haunting aspects. The tragedy is madness.

“I was Hamlet: I stood on the coast and spoke with the surf, at my back the ruins of Europe…”

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And if that doesn’t work, just say that your uncle locked your dead dog out of the apartment, and he’s only in town for 2 days.

Humor me for a second.

Food chain of command.

The Eagle is what it is: a mediocre Roman epic movie. The are no characters, no themes, no plot, merely geographic and historical setting; but the film makes no pretenses that it intends any other delivery.

The weekend, like my SI single, starts to end.

Excellently squired.