Straight No Chaser

You Don't Know What Love Is

impromptu trip to panera today. not so much a trip, actually, as it was getting lost in buckhead and winding up in front of a panera we never knew existed. a new one, not like the shitty one at the mall where we usually go. one with skylights and wrought-iron benches, servers who actually gave us choices--sourdough roll, apple or chips--rather than just throwing in the roll, moms treating their uniform-clad private schoolers to after-school snacks. a bourgeois panera. not the sort of place where one would be wise to approach the ordering counter yelling "yo nigga, let me get one of them bagels." which is what a certain person did, because that's a certain person's brand of humor. i'll refrain from issuing my judgment.

i'm kind of freaking out, i have to say, about forgetting the w entry. i feel like i've completely lost control of my everything, my mind is all over the place, i feel like a tall pile of crap, i have too many papers to write and not enough time to write them in. there was talk of a harem, earlier, and i couldn't even follow through with playing along. that is the extent to which i feel like crap. completely and utterly, beyond the point of play. and i forgot my w.

on the bright side. on the bright side. professor strange is reading poetry at java monkey this weekend, and i see no reason why i shouldn't be there to listen. i have high expectations for this outing; it will need to be the saving grace of my week.