Laugh out loud...

The best line in the book I'm reading - on Ryan K.'s suggestion - so far:

"You don't let me talk to any women again, of any size, at least until we get out of the Confederacy. These guys have all got guns down here. You promise?"

And it's nonfiction.

This old post has been on my mind the last several hours.

Seems like another wasted day; sometimes I think I think too much.

Sometimes I get so focused on avoiding the repetition of past mistakes/follies/blunders that I create whole new ones that are much more far-reaching than I could imagine. And sometimes I get so comfortable with myself that I lose control of the personality traits I'm not too proud of and get caught up short in multiple situations. I'm still sorting out whether those two sentences are related.

Katie told me she couldn't stand Phil and doesn't know what she's going to do if he comes back in the fall. I told her he just needed to get his radio on and he'd calm down - or something like that.

How come I always realize I'm starving right as I'm getting ready for bed. I had one slice of pizza for dinner. This glass of beer is my goodnight kiss.

I've been listening to the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir at home, and the Broadways, Lawrence Arms, and Suicide Machines on the road. On the way home tonight, the Broadways' "Dropjaw" came on. Guess the opening lines...