Touch me. Touch me like you didn't touch me last night.

Just once, when I'm awake at 4:30 a.m. in Chicago, I'd like to be hanging out on a porch or in an apartment with the windows open, drinking and listening to the birds wake up, instead of trying not to rouse the sleeping people in the house.

Sometimes insomnia is fabulous, other times it feels like a waste...

b

Woke up after about 5 hours and my brain had decided that was enough, I guess.

So, three things:

A) I promise more writing (read: poetry, prose, et al) on here soon, and through Composite Molecules, but I've been wedding crazed,

B) They Monster'd Kiera Knightley's BREASTS!

C) God, I love Dr. Stephen Hawking. Upon revising his thirty year-old black hole theory, "I'm sorry to disappoint science fiction fans, but if information is preserved there is no possibility of using black holes to travel to other universes."

Does that mean that Disney's THE BLACK HOLE, with B.O.B. and Maximillian and all that shit is no good? Another childhood dream, FLUSHED DOWN THE TOILET BY THE SMARTEST MAN ON EARTH.

If I could but touch the hem of his rumpled suit coat...

CURRENT MUSIC: Air conditioning and birds waking up.
CURRENT BOOK: A Confederacy of Dunces
LAST MOVIE: Once Upon a Time in Mexico, going to watch Takeshi Kitano's ZATOICHI remake later today, if I have time