If it's not now then tell me when
Would be the time that you would stand up and be a man
A vote to lose I could accept,
But to surrender I just wept
And regretted this moment, oh, that I was the fool

Flaming Lips, "Flight Test"
---
Since the advent of the little piece of javascript that keeps track of my days remaining, I really have lost my sense of time-keeping. Everyday's a day blending into another (and that can't be what a life is for). I'm using books as a way to pass the time away, and I have an interminable queue lined up behind me. Right now, though, Gabriel Garcia Marquez is proving to be an admirable but difficult foe in the sense that his prose is grand and sweeping, but is rife with metaphor, which is, while being right up my alley, more difficult than the grand and sweeping epic from Tolkien. Also, with Lord of the Rings, I was able to draw upon visual from the movie since the screenwriters adopted the material very faithfully.

I got a new roommate today, and he's stuck with the Cadillac bunk: the one that has no upper bed attached to it. The penalty for being in that bunk is that it's right next to the bathroom door, and everyone always walks past you because of it. Also, the foot of the bed points right at the door, which, in addition to being bad feng shui, means that he'll be the recipient of the nightwatch's flashlight's unbridled illumination.

Immediately, Ray began talking to him, and ever since Robert left, I think Ray, being a chatty person, has found me to be not the world's best conversationalist. I'll talk alright, but only on my terms, and in all other times, I'll be perfectly content wrapped in the shroud of my current book. Anthony is the same way: such bottled rage inside of him, but he really just exudes an attitude of "Don't fuck with me." Nice guy, though.

I've missed two celebratory company events because of my incarceration, and I'm about to miss three more, including the lavish holiday party. I remember last year's holiday party when I summoned a cab for Heather and I, and the cab took forever (as in never) to show up, and I ended up driving myself. That incident, along with another cab ride from my house to the train station (a distance of 5 miles that cost 20 dollars) really made me averse to cabs in the Thousand Oaks area. I'm not using that an excuse for my behavior on the night of my accident; I'm just setting up background information here.