a practiced self-deceit

I am drunk and unable to cobble together the thoughts I was having before I sat down and set to the task of cobbling. Dinner at Table 8. Party time at Star Shoes. Ran into a friend or two. If it wasn't for my neurotic dog and the stress she imposes, the world would be close to perfect.

I didn't have my actual boogie shoes on tonight, but there were quite a few songs that made me want to christen the pair I was wearing anew. I did eventually hit the dance floor. But I was too far gone to make the most of it. I will do better next time.

The debates tonight were not nearly so provocative as they were last week. I was so bored watching them. I sure hope Kerry has it all sewn up. Because if he doesn't, I may have to blame it on all that god talk.

I spent a moment or two marveling at the passage of time. Marveling that it's the middle of October already. Marveling that it's been a year since last October. Comparing things now with things then and being relieved that I'm not stuck in the misery of my past. I don't know how time manages to stretch and strain the way it does. I don't know how it manages to squeeze and compress the way it does. I don't know the first thing about time. I only know that a lot of it has passed while I wasn't being vigilant. And I deserve a scolding for that.

I don't like scary movies. But there are a number of scary movies I want to see. It's a problem.