Every night I wind down sitting on my feet in front of the computer, inertia pulling me towards writing "Why I fucking hate everything". I can't think of a single reason why, of course. It's an empty sentiment, the kind that gets you in trouble with policemen and guidance counselors. It's just the tone that evening takes right at the end, before I am comfortable enough to sleep.

I hate you. Everything sucks. --Jhonen Vasquez

It could be as simple as being tired and grouchy, which has been happening in the evenings ever since I was born, though I articulated it more efficiently back in the first days. ("AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!") Being a grown up, I haven't the energy to wail, I just mumble or think: I hate fucking everything. Fucking, I hate everything. I hate every-fucking-thing. I hate everything, fucking. Negative, yes. With regards to how much I feel that way, it might as well be "I ate several donuts."

Actually, it doesn't even come to the mumbling thing until I start thinking about writing it down. Furgh, furgh... load durgin textpad fek touch other files meh. By the time I get to actually writing words, I've got a pretty good bluster going. This is why I don't write email at this time. It would definately be much more insulting than I want to be, on average.

University Ave: All pomp, no circumstance.-- Ed

So where am I now? I'm right on the verrrge. I'm so next that I could just pee my pants. Fluke interview done, and done well. Best interview done, "great", they said. Reviewed the position they had for me "dandy" I said, "get moving". Now I play the new, improved waiting game. Shorter term, higher stakes. Behind door number 1, a job, house, car, and life. Behind door number 0, the whole job search game repeats itself, and I drop deeper into maudlimbo. Ploop.

You call that an idea?-- Andrew, very drunk

I guess the advantage of being all wound up for this length of time is that I, uh, get... things. No, I don't really get more things done. I'm making a really big mess in my room, from all the soda cans and blister packs. Oh yeh, I'm very sick, too. Hence all the hallucinating. Anyway, it's getting pretty gross in here. Time to move out and adopt some new habits.

Bend over, it's BGP time!-- Lamont, on routing protocols

When I woke up this morning I thought I was furious, but it turns out I was just cheerful. It's hard to tell when you've just woken up. I went to QFC and bought all the weird flavors of ramen that Maruchan makes now. Tomato, Creamy Chicken, Chicken Sesame, and Smoked Ham. Then I decided I wanted a psycho doughboy with the word "FSCK" painted on its stomach. Yeah. Sleepy time now, all selfish assholes may comfort their poor selves and wonder how come everyone is so mean to them. The End.