Went for a burger tonight with after work with Chico. We discussed writing, music, and other subjects near and dear to our hearts. Then we went to Kim's, where I picked up a few CDs (Polyphonic Spree, Evolution Control Committee, a compilation of '70s porno-movie music (really!)) and Chico wore himself out desperately looking for Lionel Richie's first two albums. Poor little fella couldn't find them, though he kept flipping through the discs with a stricken expression on his face, muttering to himself "They must be in here SOMEWHERE!" So if anyone has them and can bear to part with 'em, I know a guy who can give them a good, tender and loving home.

I also recently found this interesting meditation on the London Underground, the strange redefinition of space by the Tube map and the A-to-Zed, and how London visitors can often find themselves lost in the pale dreamlike distances of the city. (True...I think Kingsway was built with elastic pavement.)

And now I can't sleep, drat, and I have a 6:35am flight. Why am I not able to sleep when I most need to?

ADDENDUM (at 2:04am): Guess I'm not the only insomniac...

Comments

[v]

No. You aren't the only insomniac. Don't worry. YOu'll sleep on the plane.

[v]

Oh yeah. I just finished re-editing my last entry. Make sure you read the final.