having Sinéad O'Connor kinda evening.

the middleweight groundhog stands erect in tall grass, periscoping the horizon. the welterweight cat stalks 2 feet away, making no move.

affluence produces a lot of boredom.

searching for the exotic wherever i am.

the rising sun mocks me for still being awake.

i do love a plan (aka the illusion that the future is knowable).

i love that moment where a cat is so singularly focused, then a glimpse of its own twitching tail momentarily freaks it out.

you tally who's fucking who with no protection in "Boardwalk Empire", and you start to understand how social evolution might favor monogamy.

often times, the best use of a weapon is for would-be opponents to fear you wielding it.

your trick is knowing how often not to use it.

it's a long, slow process befriending a feral cat; but once she lets you scritch her head and belly, she loves you forever.

planning a trip to the beach is always a good idea.

why are there so many musicians named Steve?

We usually expect so little from a sequel, that we set it aside until an evening comes when we just want filler.

you can do a lot worse than listening to T Bone Burnett, as the night promises rain.

the more aggressively and head on you compete, the more you become like your enemy.

paraphrasing Cringely's http://ping.fm/ghwf6