Tonight was a mixture of letting go and holding on. Letting go of things I thought I wanted and holding on to the railing as I made my way drunkenly down the stairs.

Now here I am stuggling to touch type. I'm finally engaing my ring fingers in the process. Wouldn't Mavis Beacon be proud?

Not sure if that last sentence should have ended in an exclamation mark instead, but who asks the reader about punctuation? This is a serious breach of literary etiquette. My apologies.

Before Karaoke--which is where I imbibed the fiendish alcohol--we were watching a Troma film ("Terror Firmer") which I thoroghly enjoyed, They manage to slip a lot of sly commentary about the film business (and media in general) in between the beheadings and the elevator manglings.

Okay, the rememberance of gory movies and the abundance of beer in my stomach are not compatible things! So, I will change topic at this moment... [now!]

I am smitten, and I'm not afriad to say it on the internet. Now the whole world knows. Well, at least ten people a day do, according to my stats.

I don't know what else to do, so I guess I'll go dream a bit.

Something to a certain someone, and good night to the rest of you,

-Trevor

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