This is a post.

This is a little section of my day where I sit down and type some thoughts in to a computer. This is something I have neglected to do for some time, and for an even longer time with any regularity. I'm back. I'm well rested. And I don't have any more worthwhile excuses. So if you see me slacking with my posts, and you see me in the grocery store or wherever, kick my ass. Seriously, kick my ass. There isn't an excuse for such behavoir. Doesn't exist.

I stole bowling shoes, tonight. And the funny part is, I didn't mean to. Entirely accidental. Just waltzed my ass right out the front door of sunset lanes with those goofy half red, half grey, velcro hoofers on my dogs. And ya know, I probably wouldn't have noticed for even longer if the velcro wasn't sticking to randome areas of my car while I was trying to drive.

Summer in Seattle is just euphoric. (And by the way, I've just decided to completely overuse and misuse the word euphoric for the next couple months). People come over and hang out. They go play, even on school nights. They swim. And they walk around in happy moods. And baristas use lots of ice for a few weeks. It's awesome. I think there's a lot of truth to the belief that Seattlites make better use of the good weather here, because there's so little of it the rest of the year.

I just love that there are people out there making a living off poetry. Writing it, reading it, singing it, thinking it. That's just cool. Cuz, I mean, it's poetry. Poetry. It's just euphoric. Poetry is the most useless thing in the world, and also the most precious--go figure that one out.

Did I mention that this entry is just going to be schizophrenic s all hell? It just will. It's after 3 am, and I'm hopped up on the sweetest of drugs, caffeine. And I just had lots of pleasurable contact with good people. And I had a long time today hanging out in the sun and playing badmitten, and soccer, and having lunch with the lovely and euphoric miss sonya walker. And I had a country benedict at Beth's, where I haven't been in way too long.

Beth's is great, although I must remember to not eat the food there. Just to sit and color with crayons and get that fabulous/lousy type service from punked out girls that I want to spank. The french fries are dependable, and you can get em with ranch, and the coffee just keeps coming. It's pretty damn...what's the word? Oh, right--euphoric.

I should talk about my trip. I have thoughts. I got an email today from a really cute underage goth chick that I met in Vilnius. Have I mentioned in the Blog yet my weakness for goths? Well, I have one, and it's dangerous. She had one of those little lower lip piercings--those drive me crazy. This girl made nobakov come alive for me. Ya know, one of those. Como se dice jailbait? In all honesty it was one of those "language barriers and lots of quietness, allow me to project bigger and better thoughts upon you than you are most likely capable of having" things. I do that on occasion. NOt often, but sometimes. So, knowing this, you might ask why am I still having contact with her of any kind? Well, you see, that's because I am a dirty dirty man. Her email said nothing, but basically pinged me for future email contact. I shot her back an email that just notched up the level of conversation, but only barely. At least I feel more comfortable with the fact that I will not do anything illlegal with her on the other side of the globe. I swear these sorts of thoughts don't happen often. I can already tell you don't believe me.

Pester me as the weeks and days go on to tell you more about the trip. I should write about the lithuanian rapper named "pepsi." I should tell you more about the argentinian tango god/coke fiend Eduardo. I should write up the whole potato chip arrect just for good measure. And so much more. Remind me, and I'll get them all in. But not right now.

I bought a subscription to the Empty Space Theater. I feel good about that. I think they'll have some pretty damn cool stuff this coming season. I have a lot of faith in Allison Narver. It should be rockin.

My ancient friend Scott (the friendship is ancient, not so much Scott) is in town and it's been great to see him. He's got some blueprints for a 6 shot potato canon revolver of sorts--I'm thinking I need to get the High Performance King in on that little project.

And besides that stuff is just rediculously good. Rediculously. MMMmmmm. I kiss you all on the neck a lot. A lot.

K, nighty night time.