Monday, Sept. 27, 2004 - 8:54 p.m.
Oh, lord. I don�t update for weeks and weeks, but now there�s a hurricane on me and I�m hungry, so I�m going to have to pop out another lame update. It will be composed of tiny pieces:
a. I am working on two new projects, one of which is intended for the web. They are both secrets. You will like them.
b. I mean, unless you are Mimi Smartypants, how long can you maintain the personal weblog as a viable, interesting medium, beneficial for both author and audience?
c. Yes, The Measure passed its first birthday and feels like a teenager.
d. So will The Measure morph into one of the new projects mentioned above? Who knows? Right now it is busy ditching class to smoke cigarettes.
e. Work sucks.
f. However, I have gotten to send a few work-related emails lately to a gentleman whose last name is Assey.
g. Also, the overpriced deli at which I sometimes I eat lunch served me a Greek chicken salad today with three-quarters of a cup of oil. No, the oil was not on the salad � it was in a to-go container with its own lid. Like, here�s some Wesson corn oil as our gift to you! Put it on your salad? Oh no, madam; it is for your personal use. We recommend you fry up a batch of doughnuts every day for a week.
h. Yes, apparently the deli now dispenses the monthly war rations. I have procured a recipe for Mock Apple Pie.
i. Assey.
j. L and I went to the beach this weekend, and I got tan legs all over again. Also I drank heavily and read the entire September Vogue, all eighteen pounds of it. I am fashioned out. Fashioned up. My eye color is now tweed.
k. I will now run happily back to rereading One Hundred Years of Solitude and trying to figure out how to teach myself about modern architecture.
l. It�s for one of the projects.
m. Sshhh.
n. Assey!