– one –
I could really go for a massage right about…. now. Just the back and shoulders, please. None of this kneading-your-knuckles-into-my-glutes crap, thanks. It feels as if someone buried his large, beefy fist into the space between my shoulder blades. I woke up this morning curled up into a small ball. Perhaps that’s why the act of exhaling feels like I’m stretching something that wasn’t there yesterday. I’m tempted to sleep strapped to a piece of plywood tonight.
That entire paragraph was vaguely…dirty.
– two –
I always figured that I wasn’t really a nut for science fiction, but I’ve realized over the years that my tolerance for the fantastical is quite high. In an effort to continue to make the best use of my Netflix subscription, I’ve been working through the first season of James Cameron’s Dark Angel* for the past few weeks-or-so, and I dig it. I only vaguely remember it existing when it premiered nine-ish years ago but, knowing me, I probably watched bits and pieces of it along the way back then. For any number of reasons, it didn’t stick (I was a freshman in college back then. Our television was permanently tuned to VH1), but it’s accurate to say that I’m hooked now.
For the record, my rate of cultural absorption is about 10-15 years, so my discovery of this long-cancelled series is right on target for me. Hey, have you guys heard of this band called No Doubt? They’re awesome!
– three –
I’m think that I’m going to try to post something every day, even if I can only manage to think in short, controlled bursts like these.
*I’m not sure if this series is considered “science fiction,” but it’s the first example up with which I could come.
Must…stop…thinking…everything…I … say… is…dirty…
“up with which I could come.”