Didn't finish the story last night. I got distracted by my iPod. I thought I was turning into a techo-fetishist, but that can't be the case since I hate technology. - despite the fact that I am a total email junkie and the fact that I do all my composition on my laptop and the fact that I work in a pretty high-tech field, etc...

I told someone that she was in my dream last night and she seemed to think this was a little odd. I mean, it's not like it was a dirty dream or something. It was about baseball, I believe, and there is nothing so unsexy as baseball except maybe for golf. There may be some weirdo out there whose fantasies all revolve around golf and all I can say to that person is that you need professional help. Maybe with work they can turn you into a pedophile or some other less twisted kind of pervert. I mean, come on! Golf? Yeech!

My damn computer is locking up all over the place. Next time I'm getting a Mac.

Had insomnia again last night. Should have used the time to write but instead I listened to two more episodes of The Shadow. Then I finally got sleepy. I still have commercials for Blue Coal wandering around in my head, though.

I still owe my friend Heather a call. I promised I would call her back after my last nerve wracking conversation with her. I'm really petrified of talking to people over the phone. Apart from my mom, there are maybe two or three people I am comfortable speaking with on the phone.

One of Louise's friends, Eric, wanted to stay in touch with me after Louise and I broke up and I thought he was a cool guy so I gave him my email address and we tried to make plans to have brunch this past weekend, which seemed like a great idea until we had trouble agreeing on a restaurant and he sent me his cell phone number and asked me to call him. Can you believe I actually whigged out? Here was someone who wanted me to call him, was expecting me to call him and who wanted to talk about something very, very specific, and I couldn't do it.

Yeah, so when I referred to golf fetishists as freaks - well, I suppose I'm a pot and they are the kettles, huh?

I put up a "comments" link on my page. Scroll all the way down - it's just above the "previous - next" links. Leave me a comment or I swear I'll kill a whole bunch of kittens. Or rather, I'll have them killed. You know what I mean. Don't let those kittens be on your conscience.

My parents are in town this weekend. This ought to be fun. I think I'll drink a lot of beer tonight. I don't know if there is a connection between my parents coming and me wanting to drink, as it seems like almost anything has become an excuse to drink these days. The only reason I didn't drink last night was that I was worried about spilling beer on my iPod. See! Technology is useful!

I think I am trapped between to worlds. On one side is my Christian life. On the other is a life of booze, prostitutes and exotic soups. I know, the decision should be easy, right? All those exotic soups... but sometimes a man needs more than soup. What do y'all think? Am I a sucker for restraining myself from a life of debauchery?

It isn't so bad as long as there is a lot of noise going on, either the stereo or a DVD or even the thoughts racing in my head, but when everything settles down for a few moments, I can almost hear God's voice calling me. Man, I wish he would chill and leave me alone. I am sick of being a freak and having all my friends question my sanity and having my parents feeling betrayed and let down. Damn. Damn. Damn.

Mabel Stark just had her third marriage and I'm not even 150 pages into this book. It runs about 400 pages, so at a marriage roughly every 50 pages, I guess I can expect 5 more marriages. Well, at least she wasn't sleeping around outside the boundaries of holy matrimony, etc. The book is really good though, and Ms. Stark is still short and blonde but now has some scars from all the lovely kitties she trains.

More to come...

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Plotting