I’m concerned I’m working my fingers to the bone. I’m going to look down at my fingers and see bones. they already feel like bones sometimes, like I type and my bones are touching the keys. I do worry about becoming arthritic before I can live to be 70,000. something like that. that’s really just one worry. I also worry about ALL of the oil coming out of that hole. what if all the oil wells are connected down there, or the collapse of one caused another one nearby to collapse into it, and the oil just keeps coming until there is no oil left at all in the earth and it’s all in the ocean. I suppose that’s one way to avoid burning it and putting the CO2 in the air, tho they are burning what’s floating in the gulf. Of course the word hubris. For humans to think we could safely mine oil miles beneath the sea. And I wonder why it hasn’t crossed my mind at some random moment in the past… like, what if something popped off down there, would they be able to fit something on top down on the ocean floor, with all that pressure coming up. And it never crossed my mind. Many other calamities may have crossed my mind but not that scenario. When I’m pulling up knotweed I think this is impossible kind of like trying to keep oil from coming out of a hole in the bottom of the ocean. I always think of the gulf oil spout when I’m pulling up knotweed. Spill is not the right word. It’s more of a spout. I’m liking Derek Fenner’s love letters to katie couric. I’m impressed by the book. I have that thought: “I’m impressed by the book”. And in one of the letters he’s writing about biological terrorism and it’s really frightening, and I think of the disclaimer at the front of the book and how when I first read the disclaimer (“The accounts herein are fiction and resemblances coincidental” that sort of disclaimer) I thought it was a bit silly but then you get into the letters and it’s almost like yeah I can see why some people could start reading these and think this is a little too emphatic not to be sincere and I wonder if katie couric read it would she find it just a tiny bit disquieting probably not but I don’t know and perhaps she has read it, I mean how could she not know it exists. Is it possible to get so famous that someone could publish a book called “Love Letters to ” and you wouldn’t even know it existed. Maybe she’d just think it was a silly boring political book with an ironic title and not a book of actual love letters (and drawings). It’s an interesting book and I have to say it pretty much describes my own feelings about katie couric, which are more complex (and perhaps more positive) than my feelings about soledad o’brien, albeit maybe less acute in some ways. Here are some words I misstype I often type “actual” as “actually” and “and” when I mean “an”. Really revved up in recent weeks re: wo/rk and pro/gramming I prog/ram so much that’s why my fingers feel like bones I worry about my eyes but moreso my hands. I love this califone cd “all my friends are funeral singers.” I also like stereolab and yo la tengo. last night we talked about neil young and ice t. bobby brown and tony toni tone. they thanked me a lot they didn’t have to thank me so much. I like having people over because it’s a party and it animates the place. even after they’re gone the place is still more animated than it would be if they handn’t been here. mark’s milk is still here. when mel was moving things around in the fridge I said that’s mark wallace milk. I’ve become a much better progra/mmer and have written some cont/ent managemen/t modules that I’m unhealthily obsessed with. there’s a lot of beer in my fridge. I’ve had one. there are 14 left. I looked outside and for a second it was snowing. it’s hot and I don’t feel like cranking the A/C so it gets hot upstairs and I work in a backwards thong with the fan pointed at me. I wear the thong as a kind of gag, tho really it doesn’t prevent me from speaking but keeps my teeth from chattering as it gets quite chilly wearing only a thong in my mouth with the fan pointed at me. it’s suede. don’t put your armpit on your food in a restaurant. I can’t think of what else to do except pro/gram I suppose if not for physical limitations I would become immaterial I’ve had the song we are spirits in the material world in my head a lot lately. sometimes my fingers hitting the keyboard feel like little splashes like there are these splashes of cool energy or pain around my fingers after they hit the keys. maybe a gulp of air.