Nothing Nada

I have nothing to say.

I'm really tired. So is Jen. I have lingering head cold. She has a stomach bug today. Kitty barfed again this morning. I think it was the beef flavored cat food.

Suffice to say, we're not terribly sprightly tonight.

We're just checking email and stuff, sitting on the couch. The Wild vs Devils game is on the tube, but it's background noise. We will probably have ourselves a reading date tonight. That's when we go to bed early and read ourselves to sleep... early. It's a way to act like we're old and go to bed before 9:00pm without feeling like we're going to bed before 9:00pm.

So what sights in Methuen should I take my camera to now? I think I've run out of places I know about. Apart from the castle walls and the court yard behind city hall. I guess those are two options, huh?

The lottery drawing took place a few minutes ago. I seriously hope that we are now millionaires 300 times over. I bought two tickets (sucker) and I really want to retire before I turn 40 in May.

I need to get playing the guitar again. I need to finish my 2010 RPM and do a 2011 RPM. And my 2008 and 2007 RPMs. I have a ton of unfinished songs that need to be finished so that they can be fully realized crappy songs.

Jen is reading Eagle Tribune stories... our Greater Lawrence neighbors are a tad nuts at times.

Versus is doing a (brief) sob story interview with Brian Rolston. Never shoulda left the Bruins, you twit. By twit, of course, I am referring to the Bruins GM who let him go. Twit.

When the reading date commences I will be continuing with a biography of Syd Barrett called (I think?) An Irregular Head. The research for the book included interviews with Syd's family. I'm hoping it won't end in 1975 with Syd showing up uninvited and unannounced at the recording sessions for Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here... the way most Barrett biographies do. I want to hear about what happened after that. I want to hear his family say that he did all right for himself over the last 31 years of his life. I want to hear that, while he wasn't the same guy he was prior to stardom with Pink Floyd, he wasn't a crazy nut job lunatic who drooled at the mouth while staring at the television the way the main character did in the movie version of The Wall. I want to hear that things were all right with him. I want to hear that he stayed at his mom's home and painted and quietly had a happy life. I am such a fan of his extremely brief music career that I want to hear that fans like me didn't literally drive him out of his mind. His career was effectively over before I was born, but I don't want to feel guilty by association.

If I get through the 2011 RPM challenge I want to record "Lucifer Sam" as a bonus track.

Now I think I can go to bed. G'night all.