Percolate.
Effort and random associations are struggling to steep the vapors of imagination with something more than retread ideas and glossy superficiality.

I should be doing something else. This will amount to nothing anyway. I should go read ‘Civilization and Its Discontents’ finally. Should be interesting since the author did cocaine and all.

“Is my Dr. Pepper still in the fridge?”
“When did you buy a Dr. Pepper?”
“I got it at work.”
“Did you take out the garbage?”
“What’s that got to do…never mind.”

Blegh, I can’t write anything but garbage in this state. Garbage in; garbage out. That’s how it goes, right? I think it’s supposed to be about computers, but we’re just big computers. Squishy computers with hair and skin and stuff.

Why do I want a Twinkie all of the sudden? They’re never as good as I think they will be, but I always eat the second one anyway. What’s that mean? What does anything mean?

“Honey, the garbage?”
“Don’t be mean.”
“Don’t be lazy.”

Man, I wish I didn’t hate coffee.