Chemist, you want tuna?

I'm in my new office today. Metal desk, wood top. Black chair. Nothing on the walls (yet) - large photos and small ones in waiting. Music on my little speakers.








It's hot today. I'm in my new shirt. I like my new shirt.

I had this idea: give to the other exactly what the other wants. Nothing less. I like it.

The new office has a sliding glass door. I can see outside. I can step outside. The air inside is cool and big. I need plants.

It's okay to shut down. Burlesque, tightrope - good ideas.

I like space.












I sleep on the floor because it's big.

When I look out the window, I want to see the big, not small. Today, in my new 37.5 hour per week environment, I see a fence. I see a tree. I see parked cars through the fence. I see the stadium. I see the brick building.

I open the sliding glass door and I can hear it all.









The news that John From Cincinnati is canceled makes me sad. I predict that the first ten episodes will thrive in a DVD format - the story line, the messages, the brilliant humor - all of it will be finally recognized. And a nation of millions will admit their mistake: not watching it in the first place, ruining the ratings.

(The title of today's post is a particularly amusing line from the 9th episode.)