(no subject)

I got up about 8:30am. I did what is officially referred to as "farting around". Then laundry, working out, more laundry. Clean up the kitchen, etc.

Now, I'm bathed, hungry, and making some breakfast.

Today's coffee: Brazilian Bourbon Santos
Personally, I think these coffee beans sound exceptionally sexy if you pronounce their names using a Ricardo Montalban style accent.

Yesterday was fun. I woke up, went to the store and acquired a few goodies at the store. I made Chocolate Toffee Cookie Bars for my friend's barbeque.

The barbeque was enjoyable. We drank, ate, and were merry. I played pool with the cutie I am gently pursuing. He beat me both times. This is due in large part because I SUCK AT POOL. I even maimed my right index finger while making a shot. I ran my finger into the side of the pool table and a firm lump began to form. I put some ice on it last night. There is no intensive bruising at this point, but it is a little tender when I do some tasks or touch it.

Ms Tao was tired, so I took her home. After BBQ-smoke in the eyes, my eyes were a little stressed out, too.

All in all, a fine, relaxing day.

Today? House-like chores, some reading, hopefully some writing. I'm tempted to go catch a matinee of X-Men2, however, I promised my mother I would see it. She has some "thing" about us both not having seen it. We're supposed to see it this Wednesday, me thinks.

(no subject)

By the way, thanks kellinator for recommending the "Fables" comic series. I read the first five episodes this week, and I was quite amused with it. All of the manifestations and dysfunctional interactions of these fabled characters was good fun.

Oh, Carl! You so Crazy!

I was reading an exerpt from Michael Pollan's The Botany of Desire. This exerpt involves the human's predilection for mind altering plants, a la marijuana, or opium.

It was a most interesting read. What made me chuckle was the following:

So there it seemed the neuroscientists had stranded me, all on my unscientific own with a dime bag and the dubious company of such poets as Allen Ginsberg and Charles Baudelarie, Fitz Hugh ludlow and (yikes!) Carl Sagan --but Carl Sagan wearing his goofiest nonscientific hat. You see, I'd discovered that in 1971 Sagan had anonymously published an earnest, marvelous account of his experiences with pot, which he credited with "devastating insights" about the nature of life. "There is a myth about such highs, " Sagan wrote:

The user has an illusion of great insight, but it does not survive scrutiny in the morning. I am convinced that this is an error, and that the devastating insights achieved while high are real insights; the main problem is putting these insights in a form acceptable to the quite different self that we are when we're down the next day....If I find in the morning a message from myself the night before informing me that there is a world around us which we barely sense, or that certain politicians are desperately frightened men, I may tend to disbelieve; but when I'm high I know about this disbelief. And so I have a tape in which I exhort myself to take such remarks seriously. I say, "Listen closely, you son of a bitch of the morning! This stuff is real!"

(Sagan's essay, atributed to "Mr. X," appears in Marihuana Reconsidered, by Lester Grinspoon. After Sagan's death in 1996, Grinspoon revealed Mr. X's identity.)

Wow! And who is this Lester Grinspoon? Could it be the nom de plume of someone else who is famous? Like Alan Greenspan, hmmm?

And I wonder, did Sagan take a toke before he did his "Cosmos" shows? Hence the problem with the relaxed, "Billions and billions..." phrases?

One wonders what I could come up with and tell my sober self the next day.