Serpents twist in biblical gardens, snakes around mystics’ staffs. The human eye sees the spindling strands and cannot comprehend the nature of the aberration before it, limbless wonder terrifyingly fascinating. The seeking of dimensional variance gets jarringly halted by a unidimensional monster. There is no body, no identification, no point of reference once the middle is grabbed, perhaps an inch from the end or perhaps to continue tortuously into labyrinthine coils, a predatory trail that might culminate in a tail, or a venomously fanged head, or simply extend into infinity.

I hate measuring spaghetti portions.

It starts with a b and ends with a q and has an archarts in the in the middle.

Visiting W[] is a lot like going to GenCon, in that it will be fun and I can’t do it this weekend.

Mums the word.

I’m feeling *confrontational*.

Clock in, lock out.

She realized she was trying to put circles into squares, and I was neither.

Saw $9.99, an Israeli/Australian claymation, none of which involve the movie’s essence. In a way that needs no discussion of why, the movie is good. Ending precisely at the scene when I hoped it would certainly counts as an identifiable facet.

Free kittens almost sounds like a good idea.

Tax e-service.

It’s a cross between Labor Day and Christmas.

Cereal Mexican Schnucks visual zeugma.

[I think I may like, almost as much as what this identifies, how 5 seemingly unrelated bizarrely random words indeed does identify something.]

Birthday wall posters are an interestingly accurate subsection.

“I want to run / I want to hide…”

Instructing someone to meet at the walnut tree, becomes at the street of the Walnut, becomes on Walnut Street. But then the entire process evolves: the location becomes the famous person who was once there, becomes some person who gave money, becomes some guy to be honored for some unrelated reason. Names beget names. Numbers become cardinal, not ordinal. Words are chosen out of Scottish mists, just as forgotten.

“…Where the streets have no name…”

My 8 year old heart wanted an elephant. It still does. And still might be 8 years old.
The elephant? It grew along with you?
hm I wonder if the elephant is still 8 years old, or whether it’s… <doing math> Oh, this is embarrassing. I'm trying to figure out how old an 8 year old elephant when I was 8 years old would be today. And then I realized, after trying to do some math, it would be my age. And then I still didn't know how old that was.

Regenerate: the older and younger I get, the younger and older I become.

“Will you be my Facebook boyfriend? Sent from my iPhone.”
You have an iPhone? And by ‘You’ I mean ‘Your brother’. And by ‘have’ I mean ‘has’. And by ‘an’ I mean ‘your’. And by ‘?’ I mean ‘.’.

The trip was made in the first 2 hours, with frogwalking.

We’ve made the life of frog one step better.
…One giant leap for frogkind?

Fresh seafood and good cards. The only thing missing is a laundry-folding/Dr. Horrible-watching party.

2 roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I wonder why I say they don’t converge.

We should hang out soon.

We should hang out soon.

“The hot summer night fell like a net / I've got to find…”

I’d been unsuccessfully wanting to rewatch this for over 10 years, the initial burst that surged forth into fandom that ebbed into nostalgic despair about how it used to be.

“…I've got it bad, and I've got it good…”

A well written TV show is like life.
Life is like a badly written TV show.

It’s the way it should be.

“…Doctor, doctor, give me the news / I’ve got a bad case of loving you…”

I’m not surprised that they didn’t learn anything from the impromptu Chinese carry-out picnic.
I’m a little disappointed that they didn’t even learn that it’s okay to take carry-out to a picnic.

Don't even ask about the tuna night.
That's not fair.
Thank you. That conclusion is never reached on one's own here.
How can you allude to something called the tuna night and say I can't ask about it?