This Journal Entry brought to you by the letter "Thorn"

First- music theory that a mathematician can understand. Yes Virginia, there was a Santa after all (of course, he's dead now, or some kind of bizarre particle), and music theory really was about algebraic structures after all.

Hey it isn't any dumber than her, so bugger off, eh? Oh yeah- Malaclypse the Youngerer lent me the first three books of PREACHER, and oh my Genesis is it awesome. Like The Prophecy- but with more sex, and more violence, and a whole lot more smoking. Oh, and funnier- but sadly, no Christopher Walken, and no Elias Koteas. Poor Casey Jones . . . sniff,sniff

But back in "I'm-not-getting-nostalgic-about-Ninja-Turtles-ever-again" Land, two questions press my mind- First, why are Gamecube games so small? They really could be a lot bigger. Second, why are all these women I know flocking to singlehood? I suppose I won't ever know- them being women and all. Back to contemplative mode- why is it that whenever a woman has ever (and this is not the E-V-E-R ever, but the other one) wants to understand how a man thinks about relationships, and I tell them, I receive one of two mood-levels of responses: 1) "It can't be that simple / How boring / You Prick!", or 2) "You'll find somebody someday". It's really the second part that bothers me- I wasn't asking. Does the second part ever end? Or is there a ring, or a rod of seven parts somewhere that I have to destroy to end this torment? (See- thinking like a G^3 again)

Sigh. Well, I suppose this is the part of the story where comforting metaphors of giant schools, nay, universities of fish, and titanic oceans, and Norwegian whaling ships float into my mind's I, and my psyche rests easy once again.