why am i still at work at this point on a friday?

i miss benjones.

his visits are always too short and too funny and too and too.

we played putt-putt and watched a plane crash. that's what i call a cousin.

in other news there is none. i sit at my desk, waiting for various toys to collapse, i miss my friends elsewhere, i think about renovating a house, public speaking, javascript and other random things i wish i were better at.

i shouldnt be ending sentences with prepositions now that my title is Editor.

one-hundred years ago a small bird pooped on the tree that became the wood in the pulp of my paper.

i can't handle that.