I've got a headache. Ow.

I need a way to write on a crowded train, or a longer commute. I keep having these great ideas - or at least they seem great on the N train from Embarcadero to Duboce Park - but by the time I get home, >plub< they're gone.

Working and schooling just don't mix. I'm not concentrating well on either.

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Sheesh. I just did something totally out of character. The phone rang, and the caller ID said '800 Services' -which is what it usually says when its a telemarketer calling.

Now usually, I just don't answer. Or if I'm feeling frisky, I pick up the phone and start reciting the Illiad in Greek (hey - it sounds foreign, I can do it ad nauseum, and it gets some funny responses).

This time, I was going to let it ring. But something came over me - some weird improv instinct. So I picked up the phone and *yelled* "Love don't live here anymore, aiight?"

My housmate was scandalized. His boyfreind amused.

I don't know myself anymore. Heh.