It's Friday night. Except for a staff meeting on Sunday afternoon at the radio station, I have an entire weekend with no commitments. God bless weekends. Maybe I'll take some laundry down to the Maury Avenue Washette tomorrow. It's been years since I've been in a laundromat.

underneath a weeping willow lies a weeping wino

Oh man, I love Tricky. Especially early Tricky, before he decided to be a big loud trip-hop badass.

I drink till I'm drunk and I smoke till I'm senseless

I have a feeling that that particular lyric may be the inspiration for a diary layout one of these days. Except it's completely inappropriate for me. I need to meet someone who drinks till (s)he's drunk and smokes till (s)he's senseless and has a Diaryland diary. Then my brilliance will have a home...

Should I go to grad school? I can't decide.

My house is warm and sticky and smells a little bit like fermenting apples and a little bit like the macaroni and cheese that Emily just finished cooking.

I'm going to go do something vaguely artsy, like make a collage to hang on my wall, or something. And I'm going to keep listening to Tricky, for sure.