Close your eyes and it's past

( She's the kind of girl who gets her slings and arrows from the dumpster )

Oh, Lover Lad. I wonder if he continues posting his ads in the hopes that one might some day work or because, somehow, they actually are working. I doubt anyone would actually admit to it otherwise I'd love the chance to hear how that date went. I can only imagine that would be an epic night out. Until that time comes, however, I'll have to find other ways to entertain myself.

( Eighteen Half-Truths )

"I'm going out to a very nice restaurant tonight, and no, you can't come with me... unless you're a hot, single lady with a pulse. Call me at 555-2222." - Lonely Lover Lad

Yeah, but all you hot, single lady zombies out there had better just stay home.

When I was younger I always wanted to mock the tradition of cook outs and pool parties as a means of celebrating Memorial day. I couldn't see how there could be any correlation between remembering those who pledged their lives in service of the country and burgers. But now, older and wiser, I find it striking; A perfect example of two American tendencies existing side by side-to remember our past and to completely ignore it while having fun. It's how we treat all our national holidays. By mourning the dead on Memorial day with sunshine and volleyball. And We the People commemorate the Fourth of July by setting meat and bottle rockets on fire. Which makes a lot of sense when you remember a phrase as weird and whimsical as "the pursuit of happiness" sits right there in the second sentence of the founding document of the country.

So, we live in a fascist state now. Great.

Thank you, Ford for finally bringing the hovercar I've been waiting for since I was ten. Granted I would never, ever step foot in a flying Ford (I read Harry Potter, I remember how that scenario ends) but it was supposed to be the hallmark of the future, according Spielberg. It's just nice to know all this waiting wasn't in vain after all. The future is here!

On a completely unrelated note, has anyone else ever woken to find an assortment of strangers in their living room and wondered, even if just for a moment, that perhaps you had started a cult the night before and had simply forgotten?

It's awkward to explain the next day that when you said "the only way to survive Earth's imminent explosion is by hunkering down in my apartment which happens to be blessed by the powerful space dinosaur Cytrax" you were really kidding. And nobody wants to hear, after the fact, that the instruction 'Cytrax says shave your heads' was also a facetious remark. And even when you try to compliment them on their open-minded, easily accepting, manically determined it never seems to amount to a proper apology.

At least something brought them together, even if they all missed out on the opportunity to become an avatar of Inter-Dimensional Supernova Jesus. I really do hope it all works out for them. And that they leave the Kool-Aid on the shelf.

Found a new bar in District 0 last night. Culture Vulture. They have ping pong tables and look like it was decorated by Ralph Lauren, Bugsy Siegel and Willy Wonka after a night of peyote. Which is to say I kind of really liked it. But more importantly than that:

( Five Activities During Which Texting Might Be Dangerous )

Of all days to only be able to find matches. Celebrate responsibly, of course. I'll let you define responsible.

You're a star-belly sneech
You suck like a leach
You want everyone to act like you
Kiss ass while you bitch
So you can get rich
But your boss gets richer off you

FUCK I love this song!

First off It's William Wordsworth's birthday today. So I thought a delightfully turgid selection from his first published poem was appropriate.

She wept. — Life's purple tide began to flow
In languid streams through every thrilling vein;
Dim were my swimming eyes — my pulse beat slow,
And my full heart was swell'd to dear delicious pain.

But I have more important things to post about than poetry, as wonderful as it can be. I need movers. I have to pack and be out of my place by the weekend. I need strong men capable of aiding me in moving heavy boxes packed with books. But the gig comes with free beer and modest compensation.

A lesson I'll share with you all. When you are at odds with your buildings super over such important matters as getting the hot water working in your place and epic battle has been raging for almost a fortnight there are many things you should and should not do. Waking him up at 2am by pounding on his door til he answers, barging into his apartment and threatening his cat at pen-point to get your way is apparently on the Do Not Do list. I'm assuming doing the same with keys, pencils, rulers, screwdrivers and various other household objects would also have the same effect.

I am great, things are great. But why wouldn't it be great? Although it does sometimes seem like the world gets a little farther to hell every time I update. Like at some point I'll just be updating this from a setting of fire, brimstone and rubble. Is that not optimistic enough? Because I did include the rubble. I'm excited that there's even rubble. But for anyone convinced we're hurtling toward Mad Max territory, luckily you can have faith knowing that there's leadership to inspire-

Sorry, I couldn't even get through that sentence.

I can't even be sarcastic about it anymore! I'm just dead inside. And now there's a blurb for my next book.

There are days where I look at the news feed and just...feel compelled to google FDR's fireside chats and read those instead. People say those really Bucked Up people during the Depression and I'm not really getting any of that right now. So I've decided to go back to the '30s and be reassured. And they do translate after almost a century. Apparently Jimmy Stewart has a new movie coming out.

He talks a lot about responsibility: his, the government's but also the people. He's saying Here's something you can do...you can not panic. And I can do that, not panic. And then I go leave 1933 and read about the FBI getting involved in the Redistricting process. FDR, you knew your way around a bank crisis but there are some things even you can't offer comfort on.

What'd you think I was talking about? Tropicana Tasty? That stuff is great...even if it is a fucking fruit tease.