At night I am feasted upon by mosquitos. I wake up everyday covered by inflammatory response. Currently, in my head, I am plotting and planning some sort of adventure. Perhaps involving a basket. Or a bucket. Or even a busket. Fucking fish boots. Yesterday, in no particular order, was a weird day. As I was purchasing the ingredients to make Frito Chili Pies, the cashier ask me if I was going to be making “haystacks”. Maybe “haystacks” are like the “Build a mountain”s I used to have in the elementary school cafeteria. Maybe Frito Chili Pies, according to said cashier, are the fuel one requires for actually going into a field to make haystacks. Who knows? I tried to satiate the inner rude boy with an all day MMB marathon in my headphones, to no avail. I took a break from it to watch Wristcutters: A Love Story. After viwing the film Gogol Bordello was added to the playlist alongside the Bosstones. Four chimipoquitos and a trike rdie later, I returned home to further wallow in my own frustrated boredom and was met with Pancake Land’s frustrated boredom at which point WE wallowed in a collective frustrated boredom. I think perhaps this lack of real direction and responsiblity is making us a little stir crazy. We are just getting used to being out of school and being able to go and do things, without worrying about orders getting out on time or homework getting done or studying for tests. We have all the time in the world to do whatever we want and we cannot find a thing to do. I think it is the overwhelming sense of choices. So many to choose from, how will I ever pick just one? Money, as always, is also an issue. We are both smack dab in the middle between paychecks. She is still in bed right now, perhaps I’ll go get this adventure started by waking her up with my own stimulus package. More later. ~SC