Of course I'm happy, but also sad. I guess I'm sappy.
I'm just full of brilliant ideas for tonight.
There's a dude playing for the Chicago Cubs named, I shit you not, Milton Bradley. What a mean name to pin on a kid.
I think it will be a good night for some Belgian beer. Come to think of it, every night is good for Belgians.
Okay, apparently they took "Great to Be a Belgian" and added the extra
letters to the third word in an attempt to be cute or something.
Okay, did my good deed for the day. I hope it pays off.
Careful what you ask for. Because I would love to grant that request.
That is all.
Back at Rich O's now. I'm not sure why. Better than home, I guess.
Still at Jack's, proving my point with a pool cue.
Now I'm at Jack's. I really don't know why. I'll probably get bored and go back to Rich O's before too long.
Had yummy Skyline chili for lunch, and now I'm having a yummy Marzen for dessert. It's a good day as long as I don't think.
This lottery thing is tougher than they make it seem. I may need to rethink
my retirement strategy.
I'm going to try to sleep now. I predict that I'll be awakened in two hours
by bad dreams.
Now the power is back on. You know you care.
Power has gone off and on all night. Now it's off again.
I'm sitting in my garage, on an el-cheapo plastic chair, wearing nothing but shorts, and drinking a beer. I am white-trash personified.
Had a good day, and got to discuss relevant things. It meant a lot to me.
We're both very scared. The danger must be real. Too real.
What am I supposed to be writing? If I knew what was being sought, I'd try
to provide it. If I knew what was being feared, I'd try to avoid it.
I think I might be falling. How fucked up would that be?
I wish it would stop raining, I want to take a walk.
Imagine that breaths and heartbeats are voluntary. Then imagine the reason for those things being stolen away. Imagine well enough, and you might understand me a little.