“I am the passenger…”

I need a day like that every once in a while.

“…And I ride, and I ride…”

I need a night like that every once in a while.

“Tonight I was haunted by some dreams / That we'd never run in the rain together…”

As I drift off to sleep, I realize the one question I didn't want to and don't take pleasure in overanalyzing is: why do I like talking to you? I don't think this is very coherent. I think I want to share it anyhow. Share- that's the word. I talk with you because I share to you and explain to myself. I don't know what it is on your end, if it's different or the same or both. That's probably not a healthy way of holding a conversation, but don't really feel like getting into the how and why. Maybe that's not fair, for both of us. But a green rock is green; if I wanted a green rock, why would I complain that it's not indigo?

“…Don't believe the scientists that tell you what to think…”

I need to live vicariously through someone living vicariously through me.

“…And everything will fit / Into place where it belongs / In time…”

It’s like a pillow fight, only with last week’s New York Times.

If I’m rescheduling MLK Day into the specially designated month of February, I feel I may as well borrow Bing Crosby’s lyrics to be “dreaming of a white” holiday. Though I do wish I had the 3-day weekend, instead of one about 3/5 as long.

Tasteless Mondays return.

Of hiring and retiring.

There are 2 ways to rue:
(1) To review
Obsessively what’s done askew
And (2) To never do.

“There's got to be something better than / In the middle…”

Ask and ye shall receive.

“Any interest in getting a chocolate martini?”
What’s the occasion?
“The occasion is, I need a chocolate martini.”

Weather permitting.

“…With one headlight…”

Spring cleaning is neither.

Use the weather to your advantage.
(That actually sounded like a legitimate tip, actually.)

Happy Birthday.
(Snarky comment inside.)

It can sometimes be stressful but the trick is to have fun.
(Actually, come to think of it, that's good for most things.)

“Whistling tunes, we hid in the dunes by the seaside…”
Tired of waiting and watching.
“…If looks could kill, they probably will…”
Tired of killing time.
“…Dressing up in costumes, playing silly games…”
Tired of the games.
“…Hiding out in treetops, shouting…”
Tired of silently screaming.
“…In games without frontiers…”
Tired of fighting for nothing.
“…War without tears…”

Avocado basically is butter.
But with more cow.
Less cow.
Right, that way.

More or less.

No, trust me, this is going somewhere.
Because I was about to be wrap it up counselor.

It’s like how there’s a statute of limitations for wallposting.
Uh oh, Dannyrules.

I’m sorry, Schriever Air Force Base cannot come to the phone right now. Can I take a message?

haha can be either anticipatory or responsive.

How the Raviolo Got Its Toasted.

That famous Kipling story.
From the Just So Cookbook.

Every day Calypso is discovering a new cubby on my desk to climb into. Today is Topleftday.

Don’t see the trees for the forest.

“The perfect halo…”

Lightning never strikes.

I’m 3/3. Forgive me, but I’m having too awesome a day to be modest.
“That’s a pretty good average in baseball.”
It’s the opposite of a strikeout.
“The opposite of a strikeout is a hit.”
A strikeout is 0/3. The opposite of a strikeout, therefore, is 3/3. But a hit is only 1/3.
“So what’s the opposite of a strikeout? Going the cycle?”
That’d be 4/4.
“Be careful, don’t jinx it.”
Can’t. 2/3 would be jinxable. 3/3, that’s already awesome.

Twice.

“…The lightning in me that strikes relentless…”

$10 for being a nazi, $10 for not.

Censorship nazi. Not killing-Jews nazi.

“Any time I need to see your face I just close my eyes / And I am taken to a place…”

Walking through cloudmistdreamland, describing the surreality of the night until the phone call is interrupted by the other party saying Hold that thought as they go brush their teeth, with the tone of giving instructions to watch their phone, lest it sprout legs and scurry off like a paramecium insect, like an animated footstool in, say, “Beauty and the Beast”, and when you bring the phone back out of the peripheral vision of the mind’s eye it is no longer a phone, but the scurrying footstool, until you look at it and it stops scurrying and waits for you to look away again.

“…I don't need to try to explain / I just hold on tight…”