Hi, there. Did you miss me? I had to hold myself back from writing yesterday, because I was feeling so dangerous and powerful. Like when Angelina and Billy Bob used to brag-plain in the press that they'd had to force themselves to sleep in separate rooms the previous night, out of fear that their fierce lovemaking might result in murder or injury. That is how wild I was feeling yesterday, owing largely to the luxurious gigantitude of my glorious, glorious hair. It was Brian May to the power of eight.

I've gotten it tamed down today, but I am still feeling the effects of its glory. I'm just warning you.

The Universe has not yet brought me a pleated satin be-spangled cape as I had wished. I know that there is an important lesson in this for me, like I should be nice to retarded kids, because they're people too. I was never very good at perceiving life lessons, which is probably why I am constantly confronted with new ones.

I'm going to put my cape wish on the back burner, and concentrate on what the Universe did bring me, which is these BOOTS (see illustration):

ILLUSTRATION

I'm wearing them today. The buckles are not really that crazy Mary J Blige gold, they're more of a gentle Stevie Nicks 1972 mellow bronze. You can borrow them, if you give me three dollars.

OK, two dollars.

In truth, I did just get an offer from one of my freelance bosses to come on an all-expenses-paid weekend to somewhere nice, to work and brainstorm. And drink. She specifically mentioned drinking, so I should put that in there, too. She's someone I write copy for, but whom I've never met in person, so the joy at receiving the invitation was coupled with all kinds of creeping horror that can be boiled down into "she'll recognize me for the fraud I am!" It's so great. I also worried that she would see that the process I use to write her captions is completely amateurish and fraudulent and that I have all the wit of a corned ...rock... and that I suck. There. See, I could have just boiled it down into "SHE WILL RECOGNIZE THAT I SUCK," but I had to take five years to get there.

On the upside, my hair is looking GREAT today, and I finally know what time it is. You should check to see what time it is, as well, because I'll bet it will confirm your suspicions.

On a final note, I have been listening compulsively to this CD I just bought from local beehouse records, a "gloriously lo-fi" compilation of recordings by this guy Jeff Sparks, under the name "Sparkles in the Milk," a name I find both distressing and appealing, like my men. Get this CD today and just try not to groove along with "In Her Wonderland." No, really, try!

Just try, already. Jesus.

Star of the day. . .Mark Trask