Wilco has the goddamn chickenpox. I had the night off. I even had a ticket. Wilco, in the summertime, in the park, under the stars, next to the water ... it was going to be perfect. Crap. Megacrap.

My redesign mania took over Christa's site. So pretty, so punk rock.

I had a dream last night that I killed someone and buried them in the yard. And then I "woke up" in the dream and realized that it was for real. And then I woke up for real and I didn't know if it was real or not. I half expected the police to come breaking down the door any minute. Then I fell asleep again and when I woke up I realized that the whole thing was a dream. As a friend of mine once said about dreams: I don't need drugs. I just go to sleep.