Wind makes running suck out loud. I was beat up by the time I put on the brakes at stately Debacle Manor. As I drove to work today, I clicked the odometer to measure out my usual course. It's actually longer than 3 miles, meaning I'm surpassing the 5k length when I run it.
As I hung the new comic page on the wall, I got fed up with the flimsy frames we bought. I'm getting new ones. I have decreed. So mote it be.
I had a small epiphany about the play. The script calls for almost all the props to be carried in by one character. She hauls in shopping bags filled with presents and paper plates and napkins and party implements. But we're doing this as reading theatre, and one hand will be busy holding her script. Fortunately, all the props are used at the lone table. If we get a floor-length tablecloth, we can preset the props behind the table. When the actress sets down her now-empty bags behind the table, she can set them next to the props. When anyone reaches for the props, it will look like the props are coming from the bags.
I picked up the remastered version of Pearl Jam's Ten, their debut CD from the very early '90s. I haven't listened to it in years and years. It holds up. The lyrics are overwrought in places, but the new mixes clean up the instruments right nice. "Jeremy" remains THE song from the CD, and despite radio stations playing it into the dirt, it retains all its integrity. It's an unabashed rock song, and it's a better social commentary than Aerosmith's "Janie's Got a Gun."
Picture of the Day
I was emailed pictures of the anthology. It meets daylight this week at an Athens convention. I'm in here somewhere. They didn't tell me there was a lumberjack motif, and I hope I'm not the only artist who didn't draw Paul Bunyan in his comic.