I hope it looks something like it did in 1946. Yippy yippy fun fun. Drunk before the sun goes down. Whoopie!!

new color scheme! ahhhhhh....
less wintery blue, i likes it. ku ku ku ku barabajagal. great song, donovan. ya'll should give it a listen or 10. So-a secret... how exciting...elipses...one of my favorite punctuations...whew...anyways, what i was saying. the picture of matt is adulterated. adulterated <giggle>. he's not being straight with ya folks. He changed certain, um, parts of the picture...well...part. You can maybe guess. It has to do with the size. maybe not what you immediately think though. ooooohhhh, secrets, so fun, the spice of life.

oh yeah, trisha, and emily too, bolgna and white bread, a little yellow store-brand mustard...ummmmm, one of my college faves myself. Don't touch the stufff now though, like hotdogs. I'm sure they still taste really yummy though. eeewwwwwggguuuhhhuummmmm

place we went last night. It was a nice place. In a big building somewhere. Strategically cluttered, everything randomly expressing the artistic proclivities of its owner. First thing there I tried some stuff on. Like sunglasses and a boot on my head. Sense was fleeting. We lit up a little and the already cozy place became more so. I was quite dizzy though. There was a book of stories on the floor-backwoodsy type tales. Two guys came over. I can't remember very much of them unfortunately. They seemed very nice and appealing, one even had read my journal and tried to talk about something erother in it. I hope I managed to answer. We lost Paul for a little. Eventually I found him in the bathtub. Which, by the by, is where the teeth are brushed. The sink is not useful for that purpose anymore as it is occupied by several (over 15 I'd say) things. I've never seen the like. A hairbrush, some beauty devices, maybe a shoe or two... We pulled Paul out of the bathroom and washed away his residue. Thus the trip ended. We made it home. Thanks Holly for staying lucid and taking care of us. I hope one day to be back, maybe at least start on the other end of my journey through brain-states.

Yes, I have crossed some strange line now. This morning I awoke from a dream which featured Noam Chomsky. He was coming for some kind of talk, which I helped arrange and attended. Then we all went out for a night on the town. There were a couple of people with us, the only one I can remember is my friend Leslie (one of my long lost friends from my last journal). We were out in some 3rd worldesque town (unpaved dirt streets etc.) and were looking for a bar to hang out in. Eventually we were somewhere and I was reading something Noam had written for me. It was in another language, mostly German though there were definately the words nostre and notre in it which are distinctly not German. Noam told me they were archaic but still usable (he is a world-renowned linguist after all). Leslie thought she would be able to read it, since we were in the same language courses (Japanese) in HS. She couldn't though, probably becuase it was my own strange dream language. Off to work...

I got two emails from long sorta-lost friends. Not as if I really don't know where they are, well really I don't, but I can contact them via email, so they're not technically lost. So I, in a very uncharacteristic manner, responded to both of them. It was a session of reminiscing. They are both from distinct and mostly unconnected timeframes in my life (one from HS, the other college), so it was strange remembering which memories went with which friends. Sorting out experiences, names, places, fun times, first times, etc. These happen to be two very good friends, not just run-of-the-mill types. Two people who I never would have chosen to live miles and miles away from, but through unavoidable circumstances we have become separated. It's kinda sad. Friends, how they come, how they go. People who mean so much to you at one time, and then suddenly they're just gone, never to be replaced, only remembered. The world is just so big nowadays. So many places, so many people, so little time. I wish I could pluck out the 50 people I liked the most in my life and put them on an island with me so they couldn't go away anymore (or I couldn't for that matter). Long-distance email and phone calls just aren't the same. You can read a little of their lives, but they might as well be a biography, you're not in it anymore. So morose, huh? Today the rememberescing was actually quite a pleasant experience. Thank you Leslie and Laven for giving me an excuse to bury my head in the past.