It wasn't me. You can't prove anything.


2010-02-05

Notes:

Today is the fifth of February. My birthday comes up soon. I haven't even looked up what day of the week if falls on. Normally, up till I turned 40 at least, I would have done this some time last year. I don't care about 41 thought. It is just rolling off my back on the floor, where I'm leaving it to fend for itself.

A couple years ago every company decided they needed a web page to survive. Now they want a Facebook fan page or personality to be noticed. It is turning in to a place that tries to sell you stuff. When it becomes a place where I pay my bills, I may decide it is too much trouble to deal with. It is getting too big and too unwieldy. It was a place to keep in touch with your friends.

 It has been nearly 10 years since the Concord crash. It has finally boiled down to a bunch of law suites. Continental Airlines and a couple employees and a couple engineers and a guy who had something to do with the design of the Concord are all defendants. "Things just take a long time here [France]." I remember the video.

 While on my way to the elevator, friend of mine asked me a strange question. "Why do you smell like meat?" This took me off guard. It took me a minute to remember that my jacket still smells like smoke from Ken's birthday party several weeks ago. It is wood smoke, We didn't cook anything over the fire. Not sure why, but it does smell like cooked meat.

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