Oh giant vats of pudding, my kindred spirits!

This week has been SERIOUS business. I've applied for a few jobs and I've met some people about living arrangements. I'm suspended in mid-freaking-air now, though. I'm in limbo (though for a moment I almost typed libido, which would have been a very different sentiment), and in the meantime, I just keep searching for possible jobs to emerge. Why won't anyone just pay me to be wonderful and intellectual? (By the way, I have no idea why that last link is what it is. I looked for intellectual, it gave me ancient Passover Haggadot. Google is a mystery as vast as the universe).

Today I met with some young rockers who found a sweet apartment on Capitol Hill. I love the neighborhood, but it's hip and there are a lot of rich, gay men who live there and apparently meet up for flings and drugs in Volunteer Park, which is right across from this apartment that the young rockers found. And these drug-addicited, rich, gay men apparently make property values go up. Anyhow, the kids seemed nice enough and I'd love to live in the location. But I also looked at that house (see below) earlier and I'd be content there. Oh, choices and drama. Actually, the choice is not necessarily mine and... drama... drama... drama... nope, no drama. I'm just bored.

Very bored.

I've finished a few books this week.

I need more.

Hi, two-T'ed Vincentt.