I met Steve, Chelsie, and Caroline down at Ferris' on Monday night for the opening of Blayne's photo show. He was displaying about 30 black and white prints of pugs - yes the dog. Apparently the owner of Ferris' (Somehow I don't think his name is Ferris, but I don't know why) has a thing for pugs. Not, of course, like the thing dear old MJ the Thriller has for kids, but a thing none the less. I swear there is no such thing as news any more - just "infotainment", as Homer puts it.

However, it's late on this Wednesday evening, so I'll postpone my diatribe on tactics of the media for another day.

I have been trying to get to my blog for the last few days, feeling more urgent every day I miss it. Not that I desperately need to get something off my chest, rather I feel that I have to make good use of it, since I have the camera now (and thus pictures), and the fact that I went to all the effort of getting this blogging software installed.

Last night after hockey, Sheena, Chelsie, and I wandered down to the ol' mega-corporate coffee house. It was a great walk: not too cold, and full of laughter. Poor Steve missed it because he was at work until late. Oh, the poor boy, off to Santa Cruz tomorrow to visit with all our Californian friends. Meanwhile, I stay here and work on my geek projects and correct Steve's HTML.

The sound of the wind eminates from my speakers, creating the illusion of a breeze in my room. Fellini's Satyricon is playing to an uncaring audience - Sheena dozes lightly, and I focus on the computer screen. After seeing the exhibit on Fellini's women at the Henry Art Gallery in Seattle, I regained my interest in checking into Fellini. Now, however, is not the time for me to try and watch any. My eyes and I have a contract - they'll stay open until I'm done writing this entry, then they get some much deserved rest.

I realize that this posting has been kind of a ramble through the back-country of my current state of mind, but that's alright. Hopefully, I can empty out the junk in this way, so as to be sharper for work tomorrow. I'm getting that kind of information overload feeling you get when you try to multitask too many things ... and the standard beginings of a cold you get when you're stressed and tired.

Heh, back the the sleep topic in less than a paragraph. I think it's a sign. And one of Fellini's characters just died noisily and distractingly. Time to turn everything off, including me.

See you after the reboot...