eck. pleh. pleh.

I am allergy girl, whee. Waking up at 6am with my nose itching like crazy is not my idea of a fun time. Presumably I slept some after taking the allergy pill, because it only took about another five minutes for my alarm to go off at 8, but it felt more like a local time speed-up. If there have to be time manipulations in my bed, I'd like it the other direction, pease.

Last night I saw the coolest thing. After leaving snout's place, I went to wait for the bus in front of [edited: used bookstore]. There were two men in electronic wheelchairs and kind of a crowd of kids around them. I looked at the books on the 50-cent rack (and found a copy of Getting the Love You Want on the two-dollar rack, heh). A couple of minutes later I heard a synthesized voice start singing "Bridge Over Troubled Water". One of the guys had a voice synthesizer attached to his wheelchair, and he was singing (with occasional pauses as he tapped out the next lines). As I was looking startled, I made eye contact with one of the street girls and we smiled at each other. I went on looking at the books, but, well, my night was a little more marvelous. When the bus came, I noticed that the man had a tip box on his chair, but I didn't have a chance to get to him through the crowd. I hope I see him again.

it's only linky the first time

(Some of you know where I stole that from, but that's all right.)

I like the idea that NPR should provide shows in a public audio format. If you do too, there's a petition about it.

Here are some neat things to do with liquid nitrogen (in lightly fractured English, where it's in English at all).

Well, since he asks so nicely. Sure, I'll Blog This. And it's not even March yet; he's doing pretty well.

(no subject)

Big fat buttery moon rose over and behind the Aurora Bridge tonight. Nothing has crisp edges like the moon. Venus in a telescope is still too small, and she will always be too cloudy. Her edges are gentler. The harshness of the moon is what makes the magic.

If I could tell you how the moon is like Death of the Endless, I would. I can't, except that I love them the same way. The deep rightness, the foreignness, change, inimical, loving. True. (Why is constant supposed to be a synonym for true? What could be more true than waning to nothing and then returning to shine on me again every time?)