"Where were you while we were getting high?"

Why, in a champagne supernova, of course!

Happy Friday, friends and neighbors. I'm kinda loopy right now, so if I say things that don't make sense...make even less sense than usual...check your calendars. Friday. It's friday. At four-twenty-six.

If that has any special significance to any of you, lemme know, cuz I got nothin.

So yeah. My boss is about to bail. He's been playing Yahoo pool for the past couple hours, while I finished up a few small assignments and went bloghopping. That's just too much man, jumping from link to link to link. Reading strange and unusual pages. Laughing at strangers commenting on other strangers.

After a while, it just becomes an overwhelming amount of information. I nearly blacked out for some reason. I don't know. Needing to disconnect?

(Strike through "blacked out" and replace with "fell asleep")

What will I do this evening, you are no doubt asking? Nothing terribly sexy. Washing dishes. Watching Ed. Playing some PS2. It's like I'm still fourteen. But with bills.

But what would I do instead? Go out? With whom? Where? I don't drink, and I don't have a "Friends" group at the moment, so going alone to clubs seems foolish. No shopping or movies, can't afford it. I may go check out some live music, but that seems like a group activity too. Maybe I'm just over thinking this.

Speaking of overhthinking...

I've been going through some odd internal struggles lately. Struggles isn't the right word. "Issues"? "Processing"? Things that are coming to mind out of nowhere, old things. Like I'm pulling memories out, reorganizing them, and refiling them elsewhere. Compressing the old files. Trying to find meaning from the pieces of past events. Rattling them in my hands and throwing them down into the dirt, like runes.

I don't know if I'm still missing resolution, or just trying to gain a better perspective on my life as it stands currently. I'm rifling through the old papers, trying to find anything left undone that I need to do before moving onto whatever next stage I'm looking for. Unfinished business. Getting some of my internal affairs in order.

I'm making no sense, I know. For being a writer, I sure have a hard time describing things. One more shot: I can't find rest yet. I'm being nagged by the idea that there are still things to set right in my life, things that are preventing me from pursuing the next set of goals. And so I'm always slightly dissatisfied, because I know I'm still missing the last few jigsaw pieces. So I'm looking under the bed and behind the desk, inside the couch, and on top of the high shelves, trying to find those last pieces I need. I feel like I'm getting close. But until I can get there, I feel like I need to reshuffle/restructure/re-evaluate every part of my life, so that the unsettled things shake out onto the floor.

I don't know if this is a faithless impatience or a divinely directed disquiet. Or if I'm just full of crap, and have nothing to do, so I am inventing crises and psychological drama to fill the time.

I'm coming up on Quarter-life Crisis time, so maybe I'm just getting a head start on it.
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I have decided that it's time to put up or shut up, concerning the whole writing thing. I need to get this business going, or else just stop talking about. Refer to writing in the past tense. Shelve it and move on. And this, I cannot do. So Dave's gonna get down to it.

I'm thoroughly enjoying the McSweeney's book I'm reading, and it is renewing my faith in the short story. I will start there. I have two half-formed hatchlings that have atrophied in their digital incubator. I have to revive them, and soon.

Geez, I'm abusing metaphor usage in this post. It's sick, is what it is.
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I need to talk to some folks. Cain. Kara. That will help with some of the earlier things.

It's time to go, kids. Have a good weekend. I'll have a movie review up on "Better than Critics" sometime Monday.