[I'm watching you watch over me
And I've got
The greatest view from here...]

Watched The Jackal last night. Richard Gere! Is there anything better than a charming, Irish Richard Gere? I think not.

You know you need to get a life when you catch yourself having intimate in depth conversations with your television.

Or when your fantasies solely involve picking out new carpet.

I like Silverchair's new song, The Greatest View. I don't think that they are sellouts ... I don't think any bands are ... they're allowed to change, aren't they? Everyone else is.

Or maybe I just feel defensive because Daniel Johns had anorexia. Does he still have it? I don't know.

The cold has frozen my mind. That is why, incase you are wondering, my thoughts are all coming out like slush. And not even good, pure slush but the slush on the side of the road that has been driven over too many times.

Tonight is Helen's birthday, perhaps that will give me something to write of. Or maybe the Secret Admirer business will reveal itself soon. Do I actually have a secret admirer? (Nah, not a chance) Is one of my friends just trying to cheer me up because of the rapidly appproaching gruesome event that is Valentine's Day? (Possibly...) Or is it just a mean ploy used by the greeting email company to advertise itself? (Also sadly possible)

Time will tell.
It always does.
... Except for those times when time is a big fat liar.

Shush, slush.

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