"Oh, fuck you in your black heart." - Me to the internet just now

It happens, and I am sure it has happened to you, that there are people I have known in my life who I might once have thought quite highly of, who I now tend to think of as the worst rank posers, thesaurus-hounds and dilettantes, et mightily cetera. (Don't worry: it's not you.) I think there are very few spots on my "you're in the good books for ever and ever no matter what" books, and they are filled by truly stupendous people, and I do sincerely hope I am not the sort of person who burns through all the other relationships in a few years, as at least one very good friend of mine described one particularly troubling frenemy of ours the other day. (Yes: frenemy.) But inevitably, my brain is neurotic and tends towards now-focused-ness, and sweet holy, give me five minutes and I will come up with something to worry. As this paragraph so deftly proves.

Switching tracks, I think my new expression of frustration or dismay will be "Temple of Doom!" Try it on. It's marvelous. I am also currently fond of such expressions as "top man," am quite glad my beard has finally grown back in, and am looking for opportunities for a bit of on-the-road adventure before the colour is drained completely out of the world. Right now I am sitting in couch-bed, doing some writing, downloading '80s U2 relentlessly from the internet, watching Penelope, and missing the lady, which is a tad greedy under the circumstances, but, I think, still indicates a good thing.

There's nothing wrong with wanting to sit at home and eat tunafish.