01 September 1999
in my cd player...
Stretch Princess
eponymous
It's
The Sundays, The Innocence Mission, Mary Me Jane, and
Veruca Salt all wrapped in one... odd
on the page...
An endless stream of magazines that keep filling my
mailbox, begging to be read
gone but slaving as usual...
It's been a while. Hi. How are you? I've been hard at work the past few days trying
out some new code"y" things. Links, you'll no doubt notice right away oh-perceptive-one, are no longer underlined,
but instead bold and colored. Not only that, but if you're using IE (because I haven't got all the Netscape kinks worked
out yet) they change color when you hover over them, much
in the same way Todd hovers over me when it's 11:58am and time for lunch. Anyway, off track again. Enjoy.
in my dreams...
Days are sleepy, always shadowed in some obscure way. Slowly, I
row to a new
perspective
oblivious...
Last Thursday, Todd and I got into the
elevator at the end of the day, had a {no exaggeration}
ten-minute conversation, and then finally the doors opened
just one floor below ours. We were completely puzzled by
the situation until we realized that we had forgotten to
push a button... and had been standing in a still
elevator all that time. Had it not been for Ben, with his
genius and forethought to actually PUSH an elevator
button, we'd surely be there still.
in my comment field...
"I get all confused and hung up running
from one falling star to another 'till I drop. I had
nothing to offer people but my own confusion."
Jack Kerouac
in the village...
Last Friday the streets were packed as we made our way to
Marie's for a song or
two...
futon anyone?...
It's that time again when U-Hauls permeate the streets of
Boston... September 1, when every lease ends in a college
town. Every morning Todd tells me about the selections of
carpets, futons, and halogen lamps that litter the
sidewalk in front of his apartment, anyone's for the
taking... and my question: what is so inherently
unlovable about futons and halogen lamps?