Facts. Yes, there are those.
It was a PBR (A 16oz can 4 pack) kind of night. A night born to irony and self-deprecation. I would go on, but I won't.
Work is what it is. I'm watching the first episode of the X-Files. Because it's apparently important to my generation. If amazingly heavy handed and patently absurd.
Perhaps, then, I just want to look into the wilderness and babble like a deranged fool. Like a man who has stared into the sun during an eclipse. Greater is no man that this: that he might sleep for 15 hours and then wake, refreshed, and drink a keg or so of beer. It is a question of time. A question of.
District 9 is an awesome movie. Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is a good but severely overrated book. The Book of God and Physics seemed a similarly good foreign novel with depth and intrigue. It is, however, terrible. You probably shouldn't read it.
The Bourdain books though, you should read. They are good. Kitchen Confidential is more consistent, but given the circumstances of the writing, not terribly surprising. Esp. vis a vis the food. Which is an important thing. A very important thing.
Wow. X-Files really is absurd. If only I were more credulous. If only I had started watching at the beginning and could have ignored the first few terrible episodes in order to get to that amazing episode mid season two that changed everything. You know, like Buffy (or so they say). I guess you had to be there. Maybe this is the way that people who missed out on LOST feel. Seems plausible. More plausible than this show about "aliens". Whatever. It might be a while before I take the time to watch episode two.
There is a quietus. There is a risk. There is a magnifying glass placed near to the sun, an anthill, and an eternal flame. There is a question written in spray paint upon a public bench at a children's playground, it is non-specific: are you done yet?