3:50am (close enough) Yes, I�m awake. Who knows why. I�ve been trying to dry my pillows for the last.. 6 hours. Those things simply refuse to dry, damnit. One is dry (I think) now, and it�s the comfy one and since my bed is empty except for myself, I get to keep the comfy one all to myself. You know, I normally give the comfy ones to the girl sleeping in my bed. It�s almost habit. If I�m with my friends, I�m always angling for the biggest piece of pie, or pizza, or.. glass of 16 year old scotch. But with women, I always give up my favorites or go hungry or go thirsty to give them more.

Isn�t that vierd?

Paul once stuffed a whole package of those� acid-sheet-things-that-aren�t-acid-sheets-but-are-in-fact-breath-mints into his mouth. I�m disappointed because I don�t remember what he said. I�m getting old, ya know. But those little fuckers are expensive so I just fold one sheet over and over and multiple the sensation by 100 and come to the conclusion that.. well, it�s just really fuckin minty. A little gummy, too.

Mmmm.. minty gummy shit.

I flossed till my gums bled a bit ago. And since my gums are in pretty decent shape, that says a lot. No, I didn�t have a specific piece of animal flesh clinging desperately to the crevices in my teeth, I was simply that bored.

I wanted to read.. I�m reading Les Miserables again. I went and saw the play last weekend, dateless.. I gave my extra tickets to some old couple who were sitting in the far back. In all truths, the deaf bastards shoulda just bought there tickets early, but I got to feel like a good person for 10 seconds, and then of course, they started bitching out the people behind those free seats I gave them because they were quietly conversing before the play started.

So went my feelings of being a good person. I was just responsible for bringing the plague of persnicketiness into two of the most coveted seats in the entire fuckin theater. Yeah, I�m an asshole.

But it was an amazing play. First time for me and the performers were just fantastic. Eponine.. Poor dear Eponine.. The lemrent girl with sorrowful eyes. I could feel her unrequited passion from my cr�me de la cr�me seats. Then I think of Marius. What could that be like, I wonder? To even have one beautiful soul, such as Eponine, love you, but two? Unfathomable.

My particular endearment towards Eponine was probably fostered by my enchantment with the particular actress playing the part. And please, it�s not because she was �hot�. I�m not quite *that* shallow (or, at least, I�m not fessing up to that). I saw a bit of what she, as a person, put into the role. And at the end, standing up on stage in front of a roaring audience giving a most supreme standing ovation, she was crying tears of joy. I enjoy that sort of passion for doing something. I can identify with it, from a person I was when I was younger (and hope to be again soon).

But alas, I do the rest of the cast a disservice by focusing on her. They were all brilliant and talented. So many to comment on and it was easily visible as to just how much these fine young performers put into the play. They did the story proud.

So yeah, now I�m re-reading the book since it�s been years. I forgot how much I enjoyed Victor Hugo�s writing, and hated trying to pronounce French names. In the true spirit of freedom fries and other such American nonsense, I�ve reduced the cast to �bob, bill, jill, mary�. I�m a cretin, I know this.

Well, this brings to a close my ramblings for the morn.. Perhaps I�ll ramble again, sometime soon.

-G