Blah Blah Blah, Yakkity

right before i came into work i was sit­ting out­side enjoy­ing the day and watch­ing two girls who were asleep on the quad out in all that sun­shine. well hell, i got inspired and wrote a poem on the spot. i was plan­ning on tak­ing it over to them and just leav­ing it once i got fin­ished as a sort of sur­prise thing for when they woke up. well one of them decid­ed to get up and move around right as i was fin­ish­ing the poem which made it hard­er for me to go over there. still i copied it down and walked over, but at the last moment my resolve failed and i wimped out. sand in my crotch. sur­round­ed by lit­tle vio­lins play­ing “my heart bleeds for you.” i am ridicu­lous. and i laugh at myself because it real­ly ain’t that hard once you get your ass in gear, right? right. pbbtt!

in oth­er news, i went to this hole-in-the-ground used book store in search of some rather ancient fan­ta­sy nov­els. Fritz Lieber, Steven Grundy, and Meryn Peake in par­tic­u­lar. well i found one book by Lieber so that is a start. also, i could not fin­ish read­ing Whit­man’s Leaves of Grass. it bored me bonkers. Right now i am read­ing Wal­ter Miller’s Can­ti­cle for Liebowitz a rather grabs-you-by-the-col­lar post-nuclear holo­caust clas­sic. today seems like it should be dubbed Adam-overus­es-the-hyphen-day.

i went to the ortho­don­tist and he said i should be get­ting my braces off before my senior year of col­lege starts. bout damn time. first thing i’m going to do once they come off is find myself a nut-cov­ered caramel apple and a big bag of skit­tles.

we lost pow­er last night in a wimpy storm. stu­pid pow­er­plant almost fried every elec­tri­cal object in my room when they final­ly got the juice back on. blessed be the surge pro­tec­tor.

defin­i­tive answers are an impos­si­bil­i­ty because the nature of def­i­n­i­tion implies stag­na­tion. all is flux. the only con­stant is change? how can CHANGE be CONSTANT. that is like say­ing no-thing is some-thing. we need a new word for these dichotomies. a term that encom­pass­es both the idea of some-thing and the lack of some-thing, which is no-thing. what is the mean­ing of life? 42.