Truly Gone Fishing

All right, world.

Wednesday. July sixteenth. Two thousand and fucking eight.

This quiet world is due for an eruption of noise!

Good. Bad. You cross a threshold where it doesn't really matter.

That's not entirely sincere.

Some optimistic noise would be welcome.

This is one of those bad weeks.

Things can change so dramatically, it would really help me if I could know when things are going to, like, happen. I mean, I could prepare for it. And I could wring my hands a little less.