Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Wednesday, December 11, 2002

Assumption Generator Awry

A miraculous thing: the oven can be pulled away from the wall! I was shocked. Nothing ruptured, exploded, or otherwise. This discovery led to further exploring of the kitchen components. When I removed the shelves and bins from the refrigerator, I was not surprised to find dehydrated bay leaves and spilled cherry grenadine coating the formerly white interior. The 409 and the chore boy brass wool took care of that. I renamed the brass as scrub buddy, and I talked to my cleaning implements with a poor imitation of a drill-sergeant's voice. It's all a testament to the power of positive thinking.

The nice young man who previously inhabited my body has gone on vacation. In place of the quiet and mostly harmless fool who lived there for 23 years, there is now a ravenous and bloodthirsty cancer. It howls at the moon, cackles and leers, and twitches while staring bug-eyed at the hoarsely breathing paint on the wall. Just kidding.

Today I am severely lacking in inspiration, and I have no reason to be making an entry. I suppose I just want to think aloud, so to speak. That's what I've been using this journal for lately. I still have plenty of stories I could tell, but I'd rather look forward than back. Enough introspection.

I got clerked yesterday. On the way home I stopped and picked up a few movies. The clerk was the stereotypical cynical and superior arbiter of taste, peering down her nose at the lowly peons and their hopelessly inferior taste in cinematic entertainment. It seems I threw a wrench into the gears of her assumption generator. She looked at the top of my pile and read aloud the title with wry bemusement. "Black Knight." Very disapproving. "We Were Soldiers." She sighed. I imagine some disparaging thought about guys and guns was crossing her pure waters. "Amelie?" She looks up at me. "Black Knight, We Were Soldiers, and Amelie. Oh-kayyyy." I smirked and kept my silence. I save my snobbery for music, with one exception. I cannot tolerate teen horror or teen comedy movies.

Enough blathering. I'm shutting up until I have something to say.
2:55 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm


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