-John Travolta has a jet, or two, parked in his backyard. When I look out my back window I see a bench covered in lichens and a rusty eight-year-old grill. What I want to know is if a person ever gets used to the fact that he/she owns a jet and has the means to keep it right outside his/her patio door? Has John become blasé about his backyard airport? I'm sure he'd never admit it if he has. I do wonder what kind of thrill threshold John has. For contrast I'll tell you I still get excited waiting for a book I ordered to arrive from Amazon.com. I'm thinking it would take a little more than that to get John all giddy inside. Poor John.
-Each morning the cat jumps up on our bed lays on my arm in an effort to get me to pet her. I usually give in and stroke the cat beneath her chin. It turned out, that on this particular morning, the cat decided to reverse her usual position. Half-awake, I realized, after a few seconds, it wasn't her chin I was stroking. I shot out of bed and scrubbed my hand under hot water for as long as I could take it. For some reason the cat wouldn't leave my side for the rest of the morning.
-I ran across some cartoons Jon quickly drew (three years ago?). They make me laugh and I want to post them here. Unfortunately he drew them on the back of his used up desk calendars and they're far too big for me to scan. Big and cruel is what they are. Speaking of Jon I'm happy he's added comments to his blog. His posts are almost always extremely comment-able (greg like make up words, heh). I'm not sure why he's being so tight-lipped about where I can get one of those Bunz T-shirts he used to wear. With him living far away on the West Coast it's not like we'll be seen together wearing the same shirt anytime soon. Don't know what the deal is.
-The other day I went to the bathroom and saw a guy standing by the paper towel dispensers. He was drying his hands and forearms with what looked to be an unusual number of paper towels. Then, as I passed the sinks I noticed he had removed his rings and his watch to wash his hands. There was the smell of death in the air. It came from him. I just know it. And he must have come in direct contact with smelly death. Why else would anyone need to remove his jewelry and then wash up to his elbows?
-Sadly, I'm removing the link to Robyn's blog from this site. She's discontinued posting because. . . Well, I'm not sure why she took down her blog. But it's no longer there and that's a shame. In place of her link I'm adding Jon's friend Seth's blog (I didn't ask permission so I hope he's okay with this). It's a great blog and there's consistently something interesting going on. Like this:
Pick up the nearest book. Open it to page 23. Find the fifth sentence. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
Standing Firm by Dan Quayle (I swear. I don't know how it got on my bookshelf, but there it was).
Let the focus be on Dole, or Kemp; the more time there was to focus on their negatives the better for me.
-I just watched Kill Bill on DVD. Uma Thurman's toes are unfortunate.