rone | the little critters of nature, they don't know they're ugly (Reply)

I've returned from a week of camping in Fowlers, just south of Mt. Shasta (the actual mountain, not the similarly named town). I dreamed almost every morning, which is unusual. One dream involved me losing control of someone's BMW (driving too fast is a bit of a recurring theme), another had me in a white tie tuxedo at someone's wedding (no clue who, not even if it was the bride or groom or both), hooking up with old high school friends. Today's dream involved a typing accuracy test which somehow morphed into me carrying a gun trying to kill Mr. Feeny (the character, not William Daniels), who was running around school also carrying a gun (school? what's this arrested development shit going on in my brain? and i fucking hate "Turd Meets World"!) After the cops finally track him down and take him away because he's clearly out of his mind, i drop my gun into the garbage.

I read G. K. Chesterton's The Man Who Was Thursday, very aptly subtitled A Nightmare, but in a good way, and Robert J. Sawyer's Calculating God, which, despite some major holes near the end, was still an entertaining and immersive read.

Irony: escaping the Bay Area and its air pollution to go to the clean air of the outdoors... forest fires, huh? Mmm, smoky.

I didn't shave all week, which is the longest i've ever gone since i started shaving. I asked Kim to take a picture of each side of my face, so you can share the ignominy that is my facial hair.