what goes on: I disappeared for awhile earlier this week. it was getting hot in here, the fire was coming down from all sides, so I had to drive up to chicago for back treatment (my back does not possess the enduring strength of, say, Smoove B's). it was discovered that, amongst other things, my left shoulder is (for whatever reason) naturally lower than my right. finally, the answer to a question that I've had for my entire life: why do priests go into spastic fits when they see me and scream something about asymmetrical forms of demons?

for the record, I was told my authorities that I am most like Scary Spice. just so you know.

Potted Meat's first show for this semester kicked all ass that was available for kicking. we sold out the Channing-Murray foundation and (shh!) violated fire codes by fitting dozens more people in there anyways. we've begun rehearsing for our next show, december 13th, to be performed with the improv group Spicy Clamato. I have several parts in this show, including a lead bit as a quad preacher who goes hollywood, and I may even have a couple skits of my own in the show. if it sounds like too much fun to be imagined, it is. it is only a matter of time before some big green monster steps on us.

what else? I am utterly and completely uninspired tonight. my fingers are clumsy. they can barely get an entire word out without egregious typos. the indirect cause for this (beyond my sheer incompetence), however, is a very good thing - it snows gently and uninterrupted outside. the more snow there is to fill the gaps in champagn's crumbling facade, the better.

god loves all of god's children, but god loves god's children who have web pages and update them regularly the most.

raves:
the sleep button, snow with the lights off, 36 miles to go, remote access answering machines.
distastes:
having nothing to say but lots of unstructured time in which to reflect upon it.