I'm erecting immaculate design

You may have trouble believing this, and most likely you will have no idea what I'm talking about here, but let me tell you about last night's dream. First of all, do you remember a band called Manhattan Transfer? They were like a more adult B-52s if I remember correctly. My mom loved them, especially a song called "Soul Food To Go". Now the video for this song is great, it is a little claymation animation bit, the subjects are the bandmembers and they do things, the specifics elude me. The point is that in my dream I am a child again, my mom is vacuuming our house, and I'm watching the video I just described. Somehow, I enter the TV and become an claymation figure myself, and then the best part-I become aware that I'm dreaming, and the dream continues. I have ultimate power, but the power is restricted to the powers of say, Rubberman or something, I'm super-stretchy, and can assume the shape of anything I want. I have to be honest with you here, there was a sexual element that was fucking fantastic. Mindblowing. The weirdest part though, was that I got bored and woke myself up. I didn't know when the dream would end, but I was done, so I just woke myself.

Let me tell you about the Protoculture

I never thought that I'd recover from the loss of you. Truth be told, I could never envision, even if I'd dared, a life without you. Since the glorious day that we first met, youv'e been there, day in and day out, eagerly awaiting my touch, and resonding to my touch with such a warm glow. I'd be thinking about you, maybe after a long day at work or school, and I would come home to find you waiting for me. We'd share good movies together, fall asleep together, wake up together so many times. My friends loved you and would tell me all about the funny things they saw you do, or the touching stories that you told them. But now, you're gone. As suddenly as you'd entered my life, you left it. I won't soon forget the times we shared, and how you made me feel, but dammit I miss you so bad. Oh T.V., you could never know how much I loved you.

I'm into earthtones, birthstones, and erogenous zones

Once upon a time, I was able to compose my thoughts freely on this site. I was able to pontificate, objectify, patronize, flatter, single out, speak ill of, wish harm, express love, ponder and pander. Recently however, my entry resulted in an unanticipated misunderstanding of catacylsmic proportions. For that I am sorry. Anyone who wants to know what the commotion was about is free to ask me directly, but I'm hesitant to explain in the public sphere right now.

So this new computer thing takes a little getting used to. In fact, I feel like I've entered into a new clique of some sort. Until last week, while I was at Linnea's I was a dog-eared paperback book reader guy, and now I'm a plugged-in, laptop user guy which strikes me as a significant difference. I guess that I'll have to stop the anti-technology diatribes that I tend to unleash when I'm high and oratory. I mean, checking the surf cams while eating a muffin at Linnea's-how could life possibly be any sweeter?

Always on the outside

Oh good. Really great. No, I'm serious, this is fucking terrific. Next time, no wait, there will be no next time. I'm finished having feelings. Can you sell your unused emotions on e-bay? I read somewhere that someone sold their everlasting soul to a buyer on e-bay for something like ten thousand dollars. If anyone is interested in purchasing the balance of my heart and soul, get in touch with me. From now on, I move through life an unfeeling, unthinking automaton. I'm very, very tired of feeling. On the bright side, my blogs are generally much better when I'm despondent anyway.

Under weaknesses I wrote, "eczema"

I must admit that I've paid very little attention to the news in the last several weeks, and until the Sunday L.A. Times, I had almost no knowledge of the New Orleans tragedy. After reading a bit about the carnage and misery I could not decide which was odder-the fact that a major American city had been totally obliterated, or how little an effect on my life such a seemingly important event had. Neal Postman wrote something in "Amusing Ourselves to Death" (thanks Kate) about how the only news that is actually relevant to most people, whether they realize it or not, is the local weather and other close to home events, and apparently this is mostly true. Sorry.
Oh also I just bought an ibook so I will be assuming control of the internet.