i need to speak to Rufus, funny things are happening to me. perhaps writing is an act of disbelief, and if i can describe it, it isn't happening. the closest temporal landmark would be the night the smoking ban came into effect. since then, i've been so... happy?
the best i can do right now is point-form.
on my weekly visit to SW Welch's, there it was sitting, the alexandria quartet. it's quite an amazing book, i've been looking for a copy that met my budget for over a year. i discovered that i have a fascinating new super power: i can tell if ladies' have moustaches from any distance (before i could only tell if a stranger had recently shaved his long-term moustache. the phantom 'stache. what a shame.) my heart seems to be racing, as if i'm thrilled by life, and i was today reminded about the time my dad told me that when young, he used to fall in love a lot. there's some kind of MSG that's been added to my music collection, and, like a drunk fatass waking up with half a shish taouk in his lap, i've met a few mornings cuddling my computer. someone told me i had beautiful eyes in accented, awkward english. as a compliment, it really does work. i've been meeting some fantastic people, quite randomly and outside of convention. my foosball game is weak right now. but i think the fact that i don't really care is more telling. i caught a cold from the storm that rattled a couple of the days this week, and i'm enjoying that too.
maybe i'm just sleep deprived, but it's been a wonderous past few days.