I love the vending machine at my work. It is decisive. If you wait for more than a second between pressing the E and pressing the 1, it doesn't give you anything. It's a metaphor for life. Know what the fuck you want before you start pressing buttons, bitchholes. That is a key, key moral.

I am feeling somewhat emotionally overwrought. It was Superman what done it to me. Every once in a while a flick comes along that just opens up a perfect little window into the moment you currently inhabit in your life, and Superman was that movie for me last night. It sort of hit me where I live, and then kept hitting me where I live, and the sum total emotional whallop was so great that by the climax of the film I thought maybe I would lose it. Like, arm-flailing Freud-definining hysteria fit, and me with no uterus to boot. When the movie was over it was pouring outside like it rarely pours anywhere, and I wanted to make a dash for HMV, so I fucking ran for it. Matty Price followed me. Now bear in mind I was wearing a Superman t-shirt and running up John Street in a torrential downpour that was Bangladeshian in its dedication. (Yes, I have conjugated Bangladesh). People perched under awnings and in doorways were singing the Superman theme as I ran. I was soaked to the skin within three seconds of being out the door and into that weather. And man... I was happy as I've been in a long, long time.

MP was not so much the happy, and cursed my name many times as we arrived at the HMV and found it closed (and later, Chris would point out that the Chapters immediately next door to the theatre was, in point of fact, open), and all I could say was "I'm sorry. This is my idea of fun." And the moral of that story is that sometimes your friends look into the weird spikey shapes behind your eyes and think you're a damned looney but that's okay too because they're your friends.

Yes, I am bringing the evangelical meaning to every thing I write! BELIEVE!!

Man, I am so irresponsible it's like a genuine miracle that I haven't been stabbed by my own scissors while getting my arm ripped off from where it was dangling out of the bus because the guy who gave me candy took me in the back of the van and molested me while I recovered from not having looked both ways before I crossed the street.