NP: Miles Davis Quintet 1965-1968, The Complete Recordings (CD)

The plan was, just one cup of coffee in the morning, with less sugar. That lasted most of the week, but the cold is just too much. Other rules, including "if beer, then light beer," "if soda, diet soda," and "little or no pasta" are doing better at the moment, and at least the psychological effects on my well-being are noticeable. It could be an endorphin rush of being disciplined, I don't know.

Our esteemed president is at it again. This time, he's apparently going to call for more space exploration, including perhaps a settlement on the moon and manned missions to Mars. Because people are stupid, this will probably achieve the result of making him look "visionary," even though it won't happen until well after he's out of office, and the unspecified bill for it won't come due at any point when he would be accountable for it. But it's outer space, man! How cool is that?

Back on our planet, my man Wes has caught up with Dean in national polls, and moved into second in New Hampshire. He's also been endorsed by Madonna, so I don't know exactly what the net result is. Skipping Iowa is, to my mind, looking smarter and smarter, as that race is devolving into nasty attacks and even accusations of dirty tricks. The latter story, if true, is exactly why I'm not so sure the Internet grassroots thing is as advantageous as it seems. We, as a group, have well-documented anarchist tendencies, as the RIAA can surely attest. Are these really the people you want to bring into the political process in signficant numbers? I'm with Jon Stewart on this one, despite feeling underrepresented in government.

Got an e-mail yesterday that could merit a perturbed, even strongly worded response, but probably won't. I reserve my right to be disappointed in other people's decisions, and to make my own decisions about their behavior, particularly when their behavior affects me without any serious consideration of those consequences. That's pretty much all there is to it.

Finally, more dreams. I'm not sure why I'm remembering more of them, but there you go. This time, back in New Jersey again, on a bus to a jazz band competition, only Maynard James Keenan and Danny Carey from Tool, who were inexplicably recording on the corner of my parents' street with Johnny K, were with us. With Filter's Geno Lenardo showing up as the new owner of my neighbor's house the other night, the recurring hard rock component is becoming interesting. Then I was back at the house looking for a suit to wear to the competition, only my mom had thrown them all out. I'm not sure if all the NJ settings belie some lingering feelings about my parents' moving, or if it's just a rich source of material. The suit thing? I need desperately to buy a new suit, as mine are all over ten years old and a bit beat up. Fortunately, the venue for next week's interview is emphatically business casual, so I'll be able to strike some middle ground between the suit and the jeans most of my interviewers wore last week.