So as it turns out, watching my rock star girlfriend play her rock star songs turns me into a 12-year-old girl and I can only communicate in OMGs and LULZs. Yep, I've tried to write this paragraph fifteen times but every time I finish with "Parkside played the Cameron House on Tuesday night," everything else I could say is just overexcited chipmunkly gibberspeak. Hey! I'm in love with a rock star! Leavemealone.

YEAH! PARKDALE!

I took the day off yesterday and Sarafina and I watched, get ready for it, the entire fourth season of Lost. All of it. For a long time I've presumed that such a thing was theoretically possible but I never had the wherewithal, or the enabler, to support such an action. Well now I've done it, with the only person I'd ever want to have done it with, done it with Swiss Chalet and couch-bed and deliciousness and general decadence, and I'm willing to call it the best day ever. Oh, what naughty schoolchildren we.

I have to day off, too. I haven't even turned on my phone, I wonder what's going on. I may start a "communications down" approach to my life, to compliment "slow down. Maybe the problem is just that all our communication is just too fast. I was reading my own auto-responder this morning and it occurred to me that we are now officially way too immediately communicative: we have machines to communicate for us even when we're not there to communicate. This is, of course, one step away from robots ruling the world. If I deleted my entire inbox, and left my cell phone off, what would people do? ...slow down.

I can't write worth shit today. Let's play, "what's it got in its pocketses?"

• Wallet (empty)
• $2.87 in loose change
• 1983 mail-away Emperor action figure
• Mini-DV tape case (empty)
• iPod
• pocket knife
• Notebook and collapsible pen.

Remember all that in case you need to identify me someday.

In case you were worried, The Dark Knight is the Blu-ray you're gonna be showing all your friends when they come over to your house, for pretty much the rest of time. I watched about half of it on Tuesday night before the show and it actually stuns the mind, it's so goddamned pretty. It's worrisome in some ways that we are now (well, have been for a while) at the point where the potentiality of home display actually outpaces the quality of the average film print. Print stock is cheap as shit these days, and I'd swear there are colours and dimensions in that Blu-ray (which, admittedly, has been digitally enhanced and all that jive) which I never saw on no big screen, IMAX-included. I was gonna go off on a rant the other night after seeing Ballast at the Carlton, because I was once again in one of those closet-sized theatres and wondering why I didn't just watch a movie at home, but I will admit there was still something useful to the theatrical experience on that one. I'm lonely, but I ain't that lonely yet. But I suspect these days are fading.

Right: I must now get to my toy sourcing.