there's more to life than this

Now that I've the time, I've been catching up on missed medical appointments. Yesterday morning they had me get skyclad and poked and prodded me, felt me up. This morning I was crowded into a little waiting room for the lab, waiting endlessly to get the blood sucked out of me, to pee in a cup. Further reinforcing the small world concept, I got to hang out with one of my volunteers from work in the lab waiting room, as he recounted his recent trip to NYC and an amazing sold-out Oscar Peterson show at Birdland.

As much as I appreciate jazz, my thoughts of visiting NYC involve PTV3's show at the Bowery Ballroom -- alas, the show is only a couple of weeks away and I think my dad would feel pretty dissed if I opted to use my meagre travel funds to go warm myself by the fire that is Gen (and the delightful Mr. Rushkoff) rather than hang out by the shores of Lake Michigan.

Travel/tour plans are still up in the air a bit -- only a couple of dates in S.F. confirmed for the tour yet (but a lot of contacts/leads in the Pacific NW), and still trying to figure out when/if I can fly to fete my father and his sixtieth year on earth.

This past Sunday was the first day of the rest of my life (so I'm told), a "return to innocence". Why do I feel less innocent than ever?

Why does the "Brief Illustrated Guide to Understanding Islam" compare an embryo to a piece of chewed gum?