Today I discovered

I can actually fit very little of my notebook in my mouth.

can you say "oral fixation?"

...And I wonder why I get sick all the time.

I also wonder which of these blog posts I won't be embarrassed by five years from now... or a week from now. 

The reason I want to be a writer

Why have I decided to hope for (and fight for) this ludicrous, irrational, economically-viable-as-turdmobiles career?  I figured it was (slightly) more reasonable than my childhood (and current) aspirations to be an astronaut, a pirate, a tiger, or Batman.

Not sure anyone but me will think this is funny

...but I thought it was hilarious. Facebook conversation with one of my best friends:

M:

I am just finishing Dune. I need a break from SF

Me:

YES

dune

so good

read american psycho

M:

Nope. That's Gaiman right?

Reach for the sky

"The text is simply the hand with which the artist-child reaches for the moon and so learns to clutch a useful, but nearer, object."
-Declan Kiberd, "Ulysses, Newspapers, and Modernism," Irish Classics

The part of my brain now atrophied

If I had to live my life again, I would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once every week; for perhaps the part of my brain now atrophied would thus have been kept alive through use. The loss of these tastes is a loss of happiness.

-- Charles Darwin, from his autobiography