Today

I’m getting very antsy for summer. Here in San Francisco, we’ve had some rare, winter rain that's carried over into April. Readers from other, non-arid areas may be quick to scoff at my complaints about the weather, however this will be one of the rarified exceptions where relativism has its place. Its not supposed to rain here dammit, and staring at my climbing bag all day long has brought a melancholy over me that needs to be mollified.

I could throw scarves at passer-bys, but I don’t want to risk an assault charge. Nor shall I drink my sorrows away, but after watching this movie, I want to drink a whole bottle of Merlot just to watch Miles freak out like the whiny, little wank that he is.

Then again, maybe I should just crank up some Van Halen and shut up.