BTW South Song of the Day
Blink-182, "Story of a Lonely Guy" from Take Off Your Pants and Jacket (Mt. Love)

Sunday, February 11
The Jamons, "Positive Friction" from Mailorder is Still Fun!! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The Asian Man Records compilation album Mailorder is Fun! has one exclamation point. The follow-on album, Mailorder is Still Fun!!, has two exclamation points. Subtle and brilliant. Bravo to Mike Park and Co. Sadly, the third Asian Man comp, Mailorder for the Masses, has not three but zero exclamation points. Way to fall asleep at the switch, guys.

The Mountain of Matrimony
I thought about putting all posts concerning my brother's wedding under the title "Buckeye Wedding" since the wedding will take place in the Buckeye State; after the wedding my brother and his blushing bride will reside in the Buckeye State; my sister-in-law-to-be is herself a Buckeye; there is a decent chance the Mountain of Love will attend THE Ohio State University and thus become a hated Buckeye himself; and any children resulting from the aforementioned union will themselves be raised in the Buckeye State, will likely root for the hated Buckeyes, and may very well aspire to become hated Buckeyes by attending tOSU. And my brother is quite senstive about his impending assimilation into the Buckeye Collective; so, "Buckeye Wedding" would be an unnecessarily provocative title. At the conclusion of this sentence, discretion shall henceforth be the better part of valor.

On Saturday, the Mountain and I sojourned to one of the local malls and at Tuxedo Junction I was measured by an apathetic employee. It was a far more cursory affair than I'd anticipated, but looking back I cannot think of what else might have taken place. I was there, after all, specifically to be measured for an out-of-town (thank Bog for small mercies) wedding, not to try on a tuxedo. The measurements were gathering in a jiffy and rightly so. This afternoon, I contacted the tuxedo emporium in Ohio and made all the necessary arrangements. I hope to be more lean by the time the wedding rolls around in September; so, with a little luck Saturday's expedition will have been for naught and a new set of measurements will be required.

Ricky Fitness
During Saturday's run, I was as usual talking to the Mountain inbetween gulps of air, which in hindsight might not be the least reckless thing to do, and to my surprise I swallowed my gum. And then, caught off guard, I damn near fell off the treadmill. Recovering in the nick of time, I lept off and once back on solid ground took a moment to access my condition. My breathing was not obstructed. The gum had apparently gone down the right pipe with a minimum of fuss. I took a moment to ponder my good fortune and with the usual half-false protestations of reluctance resumed by laborious trot. I coughed periodocally through the rest of the run, but I suspect this was largely psychosomatic.

Oh, the perils of vanity.

Perchance to Dream
Friday night/Saturday morning, I had a dream in which I was married. I was talking to my wife through the passenger side window of a car in which she was sitting, about to depart for I do not recall where. I do not know who was driving the car, nor what, not who, was seated in the backseat. How do I know she was my wife? It was a dream. In dreams we know things like that. I cannot picture her face, but she was not anyone I know in the waking world. She was beautiful, and though I cannot picture her face I'd know her again in an instant if I saw her.

And that was the whole dream, us talking for a few minutes about I know not what through a car window. Dreams, go figure.

As I type this, the Mountain of Love is sitting on my bed, also harnessing the power ye olde internet. We aren't talking, except for the occasional question about spelling, but this is really, really nice. Super Wilson Bros. Woot!