up too late. up much too late. but i slept all day because i was comfortable and didn't want to have to think about coming home and now it is five to four in the morning and i am still wide awake even with the oh so drastic measures i have to take to ensure increases in productivity because FINALLY. not getting anything done ever is starting to irritate me and my internal mother figurine is yammering away the constant universal nag. responsibilty is eventually my destiny and if that means what it means then i said what i meant.

obviously, the internal wants to sleep while the external keeps on-- except for my fingers who are wholly not cooperating and hitting the keys as they damn well please.

tonight on the way to the gasstation (and oh, isn't it funny how i think of wonderful things to write while driving but as soon as i get home they run like butter under a hot knife -- i remember a time when i lacked excitement and i wished for things to go go go and to always be moving and then i became the taxi driver.

by the way, i didn't mean THAT.)

tonight i was thinking about the last time i wrote and for the first time i couldn't remember what this looked like.

saturday and sunday i spent with nick. twisted metal and barnes and noble and taco bell and donnie darko and two people on a small couch talking is a comfortable fit and lord of the rings (i wanted to rent to watch the rest except blockbuster probably wants my head on a platter and i don't have the money for the bounty) and music and music and music and sleep.

goodnight.