A buzzer sounded in George’s head. His thoughts fled in panic, like bandits from a burglar alarm. — Kurt VonnegutI haven’t thought much about that guy in ages. For years I went far, far out of my way to get every book of his I could lay my hands on. Especially the rare ones, like Canary in a Cathouse. He was my favorite author for at least a decade. Alas, he became increasingly pessimistic as he got older, while I was becoming less so. He and I haven’t had much in common for a long time. But he’s still a hell of a storyteller. I might breeze through a couple of my favorites, like Player Piano and Sirens of Titan, for old time’s sake.
Sup, friends list?
I finally moved out of that godforsaken suburb I used to be in, and into East Nashville. My commute into work has been cut from a painful 45 minutes down to a merciful 15. And I don’t have to get up as early as I used to, because there’s not as much traffic on my new route.
I’ve given up my more-or-less-no-swearing rule, to be replaced by a small amount of mild swearing. Everyone I know is like this. I’m finding myself in some conversations lately that seem to require a few bad words.
I’m switching from writing in all lowercase back to the usual mixed case. I am of the opinion that change is almost always good. Lowercase still looks more aesthetically pleasing to me, so who knows, I may switch back.
I am now officially accustomed to my hair being a weird color. I don’t shock myself anymore when I see my own reflection in a mirror. Usually.