(no subject)

It's always hard to know what to say on September 11th, and there are tributes out the chute and newspaper articles already, so sometimes it's a decision between saying something and saying nothing, not irritating people who are already tired of the grand gestures.

( I can cut it, so you may skim if you like. )

(no subject)

R: So, since I broke up with the artist I haven't really been feeling the whole dating thing. Like I meet women, but I just don't want to do anything.
Sam: Well, you know, that happens.
R: The thing is, as it turns out, being uninterested is like the biggest draw for women ever.
Sam: ...this isn't going to end well for you.
R: It rarely does. I turned down two women.
Sam: Only two?
R: Together.

His life is like the worst porn film ever.

He was dancing to Muddy Waters while making pancakes (I made him make them this time, so he'd understand the functions behind pancake mix) and declared they were Bluescakes, which we decided was the best name ever for an open-all-night breakfast diner.

And then he played some music by this guy, William Elliott Whitmore, who is a pretty stunning musician. Listen to Old Devils and tell me it's not the most Trace song ever. I was riveted. R thought it was really funny. Even aside from Trace, the idea of a protest song about war set in the context of long-term prison inmates is genius.

From what I hear of the outside world
It's not too different out there
They tell me there's a war without no end
The old devils are at it again...