Every time I clean off my desk, it just gets cluttered again.

I compulsively keep every email that I send or receive.

I think I might be under a lot of pressure right now. Last night I was afraid to get a refill at Dairy Queen because I wanted to avoid confrontation.

On Sunday night, a Nebraskan asked me what he should draw. I told him to draw what "seventeen" would look like if it wasn't a number. This prompted him to scribble furiously. I have been accused of "staying up all night" thinking of such things, but just the opposite is true. Historically, this would be saying that my work "smells of the lamp." Okay, so sometimes my creativity does have a lampish smell to it. I keep editing previously posted weBlogs...

If I hold on to a thought for too long, I get self-conscious.

That's enough for now.

--gh