Sweet Jesus.

I'm at Mike B.'s, watching all the horrid political punsters and spinsters, doing their bit to freak me out. I'm not feeling so good about all of this at the moment. I'm losing my easy internet access soon, so I love you all and will try to keep in better contact. I'm moving (as long as my check clears) into my apartment tomorrow; apartment 404 instead of 202, but the same address otherwise. A mass email will probably be forth-coming.
Jon, Happy Birthday.
Hilary, I would love to be at your show; the picture of Eli is truly outstanding and so perfectly realised.
Mike, God bless, where ever in the world you are.
Jenne, what I would not give for one more Sunday commiserating with you.
I don't know; I may need to walk home and smoke a cigarette; was the Red Sox winning the World Series asking too much?