Couldn't you have saved a minor part?
I could've ripped apart and thrown it to the river.
Wonder if there's hearts that will deliver.

Rufus Wainwright, "14th Street"
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An interesting quickie about that turkey pesto sandwich last week: the tryptophan placebo baguette was enough to knock me the fuck out during my ride, causing me to almost miss my stop. I jarred myself awake just as the bus was pulling away from my stop, and I had to scramble to tell the bus driver. Good times.

I decided to change up my schedule a little bit. All the upcoming Monday Night Football games are terrible, so I thought I'd just go to an AA meeting instead.

Almost all of the Risk-heads are gone. Sam the sports junkie is gone, too. There's a new bunkie over in 224 (the room connected to mine via bathroom), and Chris came knocking last night while I was reading Anarchy, State, and Utopia. He wanted my counsel regarding who should clean the bathroom this weekend since a variety of factors (Page was leaving; Chris was working that day; new bunkie Doug just arrived; etc.) made scheduling difficult. Ultimately we came to the common sense approach that I would tell Mike to take a shower in the morning so that Chris could subsequently clean it for inspection.

My advice was heeded because I was the elder statesman between the two rooms, a notion that both amuses and horrifies me. I'm down to forty-seven days and my balance is all paid off, and I'm an active and popular speaker in AA, so I'm hoping that I could put myself on calendar and ask the judge for modification. But really, I'm starting to short time it myself, so there's no big deal. I'd just prefer to have legal counsel in case I have to bring something up before DMV or my probation officer. The evenings, mornings, afternoons: I've measured out my life with coffee spoons.