Hiya Journal,
It's Friday again. You'll be glad to know that I didn't have to rush to catch the train this morning. No, instead, I stood on the platform and froze quietly, hands in gloves, sipping hot coffee from a tumbler while waiting for the train to appear through the fog. It was nice, actually. Well, except for the part where I was freezing.
I must admit, I've been rather negligent about keeping you updated on my weekends and whereabouts. I'm sorry that I haven't even posted any photos taken in 2005. That's just wrong. I promise to get my act together and share some soon.
You should know that I've been reading quite a bit this month, trying to stay true to one of my resolutions. I just finished a book called Rain Storm by Barry Eisler. The story is about John Rain, a "natural causes" assassin hired by the CIA to take out an arms dealer in Macau. He's Japanese-American and a judo master with a knack for breaking necks. He also likes single malt whiskey and jazz. You two would probably hit it off if he weren't imaginary and you weren't so, you know, electronic. The book isn't my favorite in the series (it's the third of three so far), but I like it.
You should also know that I've made a commitment to refrain from purchasing any new CDs or books until I've finished all of the unread novels still stacked on the floor at home. I'm telling you this to so you can help keep me in line should I come close to slipping up while cruising the local book and music stores.
Because I know how much you like music, I'll leave you with a verse and chorus of "Look What You've Done" by Jet. The song has been on my mind for the last few days and you'll probably dig it.
Give me back my point of view
'Cause I just can't think for you
I can hardly hear you say
What should I do, well you choose
Oh, look what you've done
You've made a fool of everyone
Oh well, it seems likes such fun
Until you lose what you had won
Well, Journal, the train is pulling into the station. It's time for me to go and earn a living (or a close approximation of one). I'll write more later. More what, I don't know, but it'll be written later.
Until then,
David
