Current Mood: anticipation prick-fest to see exactly how school will destroy my will and finances during this second precious semester of what? an extraneous degree? a slack approach to gettin' my paper wrong?

Dear Pluto,

You'll always be a planet to me.

Welcome to the Arirang Festival, a celebration of North Korea's late Kim Il-sung's birthday. Gymnasts perform in the foreground, while thousands upon thousands of children hold up colored cards in the stands; that's no billboard, my friends.

Mass games are crazy times 2356, and I don't even know what that is!

My 27th birthday party.

Everyone's invited! Thanks, Spain!

I watched Lucky McKee's "Masters of Horror" installation a few nights ago, and I couldn't fall asleep for all my mental bug-girl reprising.

On my way back from lunch, a van nearly hit me, barreling from behind into the left lane one instant short of an accident. I glanced over at the offensive party and noticed that they had a number of passengers, one of which was a small collie. I pulled forward to see if the dog would bark at me, and it did. So I rocked back and forth, to agitate the collie as well as the human content of van. And I felt some satisfaction when my plan succeeded and the van's interior filled with angry activity and noise.

Now that I think about it, I feel awful for torturing the dog.

I've had too much coffee today.

So much so, I experienced a partial reversal of consumption's desired effect. That is, hyperactive impotence. Or, better yet, failure to realize potential energy. A stone atop Mount Fucking Everest. Restricted optimism. You know what I mean.

To make matters pickled in briny preoccupation, I started with one freshly-picked polaroid pitching two kids clasping a certificate on their wedding day, backs to the camera. Then, through a new window, I daydreamed, aided by a Wiki list of dead cities. Then, with shaky hands paging virtually through turn-of-the-century children's novels, I imaged innocent illustrations into adult body art forms.

Not focusing, disregarding expected results and grown-up obligations, I wasted the entire day.

Tonight, at least, I will awake enough to enjoy a bardic performance cast at level 30. Alternately, I'll also be able to defend myself, should the sweet song irritate nearby clandestine orcish hordes.