It's windy and warm and cool at the same time; the clouds keep creeping up and sliding away again; rain flashes off and on--a lovely day indeed. Weather can be like emotion, like mood swings; there is no prozac for nature, though.

Jeff whooped me at racquetball again. Good workout, though, so I don't care too much. I'll beat him eventually. It has turned into one of those days when I wish I could drag this beast of a PC outside onto the deck. When will wireless be practical? Faster, more reliable, more true to the definition. Soon, I hope. So...what is there to do in Phoenix?

Invitations. Why do we put so much worry into whether we are invited to things? Is there no other measure of acceptance, of belonging, aside from simply being included? Does not being invited signal some sort of dividing line in a relationship? Is there anything innocuous about it? I have no answer here; just thinking out loud.

On the radio yesterday, they were talking about how the impending writers strike in Hollywood may leave us with nothing to watch but "reality" shows. And maybe "Friends". So now is my big chance to be a "scab" writer for TV. Would anyone notice the difference?

The warm weather starts to creep back into the Midwest. I hope the little cold snap didn't kill off the flowers or stunt the budding of the trees. You have to be impressed by the power of nature to regenerate, though. I have this one nightmare where the seasons get screwed up, and the trees are bare all summer long. And people get depressed from the lack of green, and the suicide rate goes up, and the air quality slips from the lack of cleansing done to the air by the trees. Every day is an ozone action day; people are asked to not drive, but they do, because they just want to get away from the sad-looking trees; get somewhere else. Children climb the trees and and cover them with green paper, trying to make them look right. Out of frustration, a man starts running around with a chainsaw in his neighborhood, hacking at the trees and anything else that gets in his way. He dies when he miscalculates and one of the attacked trees collapses on top of him.

Well, haven't I just been lousy at this lately.

What's bugging me today? Hmmm. Funny that a guy named Bush is so intent on selling off the environment. My god, if he lasts 8 years, there won't be anything green left to save, except for the cash lining his pockets. And he'll make sure the students in this country are too dumb to realize how badly the nation is screwed up. I see his evil plan; make us stupid, make us a nation of cows to be herded in cattle rancher style, mooing, mooing, as we are slaughtered in our own backyards.

Dorothy Alagna: b. 2/4/1930, d. 2/19/2001. I still have some mints left over from xmas, grandma. And I have plenty of memories. Thank you.

Napster is dead. Long live Napster!

Cold, ice-rainy day here. Suits my mood perfectly

So I'm lousy at doing this. Anyone with a gripe against me can get in line. Zen is perhaps the art of not letting the rest of the world get to you. I'd try to meditate but absolute silence bothers me. I wonder why?