I should be doing laundry but...

...instead I'm going to dump my brain on the Internet. Here's a random assortment of thoughts that have jumped the neurons in my noggin over the past few days.

If someone doesn't break my junk before the time comes, one day I'm going to have a kid. And one day I'm going to have to look that kid straight in the eye and tell 'em that I never did drugs, that drinking excessively is dangerous and not fun, that there is a higher power that beats down on us and causes the cogs of the world to spin. I'm going to put forth my super seed in order to help make my genius baby, then I'm going to lie to it like no one's business just like all parents lie to their kids. Because lying is the secret to raising a kid who isn't a dysfunctional monster.

Just think of anyone who was raised on absolute truth about all things, then think about how fucked up they are. Of all the people I can think of-- my close friends and people I knew growing up-- the kids who were raised on facts and truth on the part of their parents are the ones who are now in a very dismal condition. Most are depressed, very few of them have any ambition, and they're all real selfish buggers.

That's because parenting is a race to see if you can keep your kid innocent long enough for them to comprehend the true nature of the world. Twelve-year-olds can't comprehend the dangers of drug use; six year olds can't fully grasp the concept of death. You have to wait until they've taken in enough of the world on their own to reveal the truth from a parent's perspective. And that's that.

So meanwhile, I'm really enjoying these new playlists I made. I made three the other day. One of them has a good mix of early post-punk and generic Britishness called "the darker 80's." It's chocked full of Joy Division and Gang of Four and Chameleons and Echo and Wire. Then I have one called "the lighter 80's" with fair amounts of classic 80's fare. Blondie, Huey Lewis, Elvis Costello, Michael Jackson, etc. Then I made a good little "post-punk revival" playlist with basically every band worth listening to since 2000 on it. Yeah, I know. I'm in a very post-punk mood lately. Throbbing bass and all those dark undertones.

Allee asked me if Ian Curtis kind of looked like the lead singer from Muse. I just told her that every British lead singer from the past 30 years has that whole sunken-in cheeks AIDS look going on. I think they aren't feeding those Manchester boys very well, or something.

I made a YTMND. Check it.

I absolutely hate doing laundry. I'm starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, I can put it off until Christmas break. I figure by then someone very close to me, either Louie or Allee, will just do it for me.

I really shouldn't post my genius plans on the Internet.

Today at dinner I realized that if it weren't for my family, there really wouldn't be a whole lot of reason for me to go home for Christmas. I think a Christmas with my Rice pals would be something interesting if nothing else. And fuck me if I haven't purchased one paltry present for anyone yet. I'm going to get my ass beat when all my friends and family get a donation to the Human Fund from yours truly.

Finally, I'm four pages into a story I started writing a week or two ago. Delicious, single-spaced pages. It's the second time I've been able to get more than two pages into anything written of my own volition. The first time was this really great story about life in Panama City Beach written about three years ago that I might post one day. I don't know. I used to impress girls with it.

I'm outtie.