So, here I am, in the city, starting a blog out of my own necessity to share minutia with my cosmologically indifferent fan base. Of course I meant the bedside fan I left at home, which at one point was a priority. Tip of my hat to you, and welcome if you're out there, or in here.
Out of my own need to suffer gloriously for the hosannic cause of grocery shopping in the ever cosmopolotonically changing Fred Meyer, I'm typing out my jibber jabber over a half empty pie tin of peach pie. Epic demarcations of inspiration sentinel my impulses like the bad dreams of over-dramatic Jungian juries of your character, laughing as you involuntarily submit to a compulsory expose. Alright, you caught me already, I'm the dramatic one. I suggest everyone have a costume trunk and a hat collection for personal prosperity, because after all, if you can't walk the talk, then you might as well keep your mouth shut.
Chuck Berry's singing Almost Grown on the fascinating synchronicity of iTunes Genius. If you're looking for proof of God, I suggest any of Apple's fine line of products from the shuffle to Genius, and do yourself the simplest of simples when you're listening to your "random" music, that is: "What am I thinking about?"
Perhaps my laptop should be named Nancy, because she's so graceful and classy, but to answer your question, no, I still don't know who Tom is either, although the name originates in Aramaic and means "twin." My philia is noted in the subject of names now. [And an edit: Today I had a call for an author named Donat as I was reading about about Donuts. Then a call from the first ever Ishiwa. Any experiences with these names?]
Thanks for listenin', I'm going to eat my pizza.