Making it look easy.
Not so much.
Summer fun!
Giving Thanks.
Moi plus le vin font le sourire.
Sometimes, it makes you want to have some of your own.
No sweet potato casserole or pie this Thanksgiving. Total Failure.
I re-read The Stranger this weekend. It is still as good and relevant as it was when I first read it 10 years ago, so that made me pretty depressed/happy. In fact, the novel had such an effect on me (like it always does) that today as I was out, I felt a more fundamental connection with Meursault than I did with any of the other automatons out doing the rounds.I was in a cafe and drinking my coffee and watching the snow and trying to figure out things and failing miserably.
Sometimes, I like to listen to Tori Amos, but I don't know what the fuck she is talking about.
Felicia and I went to "Game-Night" last night at her friend's, Hailee's, house. It was fun but we are old. Boardgames and cocktails while our kids ran around and raised hell until midnight. Pure Sub-urban Americana. To spice it up a little, there was an earthquake. Good times.
You don't know anything, much less your rationalizing self, so stop trying.
Sometimes, I think that it matters, but who knows. Maybe that's why the cosmos aren't swimming with (overt signs of) intelligent life. Maybe we're all consumed by our own pathetic navel-gazing to be bothered with anything else. Shit, I know that's the case with regards to myself.
I re-read The Stranger this weekend. It is still as good and relevant as it was when I first read it 10 years ago, so that made me pretty depressed/happy. In fact, the novel had such an effect on me (like it always does) that today as I was out, I felt a more fundamental connection with Meursault than I did with any of the other automatons out doing the rounds.I was in a cafe and drinking my coffee and watching the snow and trying to figure out things and failing miserably.
Sometimes, I like to listen to Tori Amos, but I don't know what the fuck she is talking about.
Felicia and I went to "Game-Night" last night at her friend's, Hailee's, house. It was fun but we are old. Boardgames and cocktails while our kids ran around and raised hell until midnight. Pure Sub-urban Americana. To spice it up a little, there was an earthquake. Good times.
You don't know anything, much less your rationalizing self, so stop trying.
Sometimes, I think that it matters, but who knows. Maybe that's why the cosmos aren't swimming with (overt signs of) intelligent life. Maybe we're all consumed by our own pathetic navel-gazing to be bothered with anything else. Shit, I know that's the case with regards to myself.
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