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.”