Switchblades and Infidelity.

Jesus, I feel swarthy. It's late but still oppressively humid. My internal thermostat has always been set a little high, and in conditions like this I feel like a fucking Pirate. Tom Cruise and his needlessly large nose are on the television and it makes me marvel at the irony of nature. With a nose that big you would think he'd be able to smell the overpowering stench of dog shit every time he walks in to one of his Scientology churches, or whatever those nut jobs call 'em.

The floods never came, well not here anyway. Elsewhere folks weren't so lucky, but I guess my time will come.

Doctor Meinhoffer (or Fuhrer Mein Kampf as I might now call him, little mental-Nazi that he is) wasn't too bad. All up I was there about five minutes. I get the feeling he doesn't want the intellectual battle as much as I do. I think he's scared of being shown up, and I don't blame him. He is well past looking for reassurance in his profession, and to be found lacking by the likes of me is probably a little too much to handle for a man of his standing. Self-assured? Oh, no. A dirty word.

Deadlines are a new notion for me. I have never worked well to a schedule, and I have no idea how I am supposed to go about it. In typical fashion, I will work when the inspiration strikes me, and in between those precious, golden moments, I will peruse the world at my leisure. I still haven't been to the lakes, and being that my blood flows through those waters like it does my veins, I need to make the short trip soon. A place of friendship, they require accompaniment. Contact me through telepathy if you want to come with. If I get a little teary-eyed out there, it is only incidental. I promise.

My doses are rising, I forgot to mention. We shall see - shall we not - whether they are a help or a hindrance.

I miss 1999 and Blink 182 - a time when the biggest problems we faced were Y2k and getting caught pashing by the bushes on the driveway into school. No George Bush. No War On Terror. Rodney Hide was still fat and devoid of any political power. I wish I was Marty McFly, on the lam with Doc. Have you ever felt the same?

If you could choose one musician to play the soundtrack to your life, who would it be?