The Not-So-Bald Mountain will be back in ten days. Hot damn. At the same time, I know he'll miss his Seagle friends and justly so. For years, my brother has been the Bald Mountain. Why? Because he is 6'2" with broad shoulders and a shaven skull. Of late, though, he has lost a good deal of weight and grown his hair out. He is a shadow of his former self and yet still a massive human being; so, the "mountain" portion is still accurate. But "bald"? I think not. When he grew a mohawk, he was briefly known as Mount Mohawk; now that he has bogarted my haircut, sideburns and all, what is he? The Hairy Mountain? The Not-So-Bald Mountain? Mount Pampador? Hmmm, I'm sure it will come to me once I get used to the new look. In the meantime, it'll be fantastic to have him back. I've missed the little guy.

Only two things have ever been said about my eyes: long ago, a girl told me I have sad eyes and relatively recently Pelsky told me I have mischief in my eyes. So, I have no idea what I see there. But, about my smile, let me say this: I have one damned infectious smile. I mean, look at it, it's amazing. Genuine to the core, that's what my smle is. My whole face contributes, leading to crow's feet at the corners of my eyes at the young age of twenty-four. I smile a lot and it is a fantabulous thing to behold.

I wish I had a portal as seen in Being John Malkovich. Not for me, but for you guys. Everybody should have the opportunity to know for fifteen minutes what it's like to be me. It's luminous in here.