Good Lord! I spent all yesterday writing this maudlin piece-of-crap post about my life being in transition, BLAH BLAH, about yellow leaves on a forest floor, BLAH BLAH, about falling in the "rabbithole" of love and how you can never predict what will happen once you fall down it. Wow, how PROFOUND, Breakup Babe!! And that metaphor -- brilliant!

Then Blogger obliterated it when I *finally* tried to post it so I think think the Gods of the Internet are trying to tell me something. Which is, that I should stop trying to write anything, and let some of the great songwriters of our day tell you how I feel instead. So with that, a few choice song lyrics to communicate to you the oh-so-rich and varied tapestry of my overactive INNER LIFE this weekend.

And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.
-Johnny Cash

Sundays just f*cking suck sometimes.

Love feels good when it sits right down, puts its feet up on the table and it
Sends a bowl around.
-The Old 97s

Yeah but when was the last time that happened?

You were wrong when you said
Everything's gonna be alright.
-Built to Spill

Hmmph.

With so much drama in the L-B-C
It's kinda hard bein Snoop D-O-double-G
But I, somehow, some way
Keep comin up with funky ass shit like every single day
-The Gourds version of the Snoop Dogg classic.

Yeah bitches.