hungry for sustinance...

It seems to have been a while, once again, since I've put ink to paper. That reminds me of the lyric "'there's no poetry between us,' said the paper to the pen" but at least in the literal sense, there is none between me and the pen either. I can't stand sitting down and writing with a pen in my hand. It seems far too clumsy. I can't focus and when I find something to say I cannot get it out fast enough. It is better this way, trust me on this.

So things are good. I am busy it seems and yet the few remaining moments of free time tend to weigh on me more than their former colleagues. I suppose my mind is heaviest when there is more to wrestle with. It occurs to me I might need a new hobby now more than ever.

Well maybe not. I am noticing that my netflix movies are just sitting on top of the television collecting dust. I may need to cancel. I think that is how they make money, that while a few may make a game out of seeing how fast they can get them back in, perhaps the vast majority of people don't have enough time to devote themselves to seeing how much they can maximize the savings of paying a monthly fee over a per-use charge. Nevertheless I guess it is good to know you have them there when you finally are ready to kill some time.

By the way, Music and Lyrics wasn't that good. Boo Hugh Grant and boo Drew Barrymore. You aspired too much and all you achieved was trite at best. A film that invokes the likes of Smokey Robinson and Bob Dylan should at least feature some clever and witty songwriting even if the plot must suffer. I don't know if the script was an amateur attempt by a lyricist to write a film or if the lyrics were the amateur attempt of a screenwriter. Perhaps both!

Well, I might be too late to save you the two hours and popcorn but for the record, I said it. If I did get to you in time, you can thank me later. Let's hear it for b-sides.

So if you thought this was going nowhere, you are right. I have no fluid sense of direction, no line of reasoning, nothing itching to get off my chest, no revelation of thought, no witty observation of life to reveal. I am jack's completely absent-minded rambling hypothalamus. I see, hear, smell, taste, and touch nothing, but I revel in it all anyway.

I am apparently struck by the shock and awe that I am developing a reputation for thinking too much. At work. At home. I think I am driving the people around me completely insane. Does anyone know of any narcotics to turn this off? I am open to anything at this point.

As for the temperature in my apartment, it seems to fluctuate too much these days. I almost broke a sweat last night sleeping on my couch but when I went to bed I didn't ever get my toes to warm up. If that doesn't sound odd to you consider that my bed has 5 or so inches of heat-trapping memory foam on top of it. I only use a sheet and a thin quilted comforter or else I would roast. I think the problem is that the thermostat is in the living room. I swear it needs recalibrating but maybe that is just the difference between one room and the next.

Well I think I am done now. I am sure to have more to say soon. I'll keep you all posted.

Peace,

b