as homer awakes from his beer-in-the=paint-shaker-induced coma...

the deepest secrets
should never become words
actions beget what?

out of the corner of my eye i swear i see movement, but maybe the extra-perceptive peripheral vision just creates movement where there is none. maybe ghosts are in our heads... in fact i think it's less maybe and more probably and more absolutely.

what a long weekend it was. stress brought on by late photos from the printer brought on a migraine that brought on me missing a good night out for a raymi's b-day, but i guess it was for the best. hanging photographs at noon on a sunday, traipsing through the rain in search of a doorway isn't something i would have wished to do while also hungover. and boy, it's been a while since i had at the fun nights out... on friday i will try to contain myself but all signs point to YES YES YES! and possibly no, but mostly yes.

i'm having a good hair day. that always happens when nobody's looking.

there's nose spray and generic vick's rub on my desk and a best of depeched mode cd i just put on my ipod... and wow, that sentenced sounded like i was trying to be cool except it was an afterthought, a thought after the fact, something i did not plan, though now may start to seem contrived because of how much i am talking about it.

king of the hill's on again, earlier it was the one with zz top and their neck beards that consume television screens. and those were the animated ones! i rented the matador and sin city on friday, but finally mom watched the matador with me tonight. she liked it as i thought she would... sin city i watched after everyone was in bed and my lungs filled with smoke and i sat there, on the living room floor, watching mickey rourke repeat the only part he's ever played. but oh so good.

and here i am, now, locked away in my panic room writing to you pretending that movement over there isn't standing right behind me waiting for me to stop typing... so it can...