This is Major Tom to Ground Control
I'm stepping through the door
And I'm floating in a most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today
- David Bowie, "Space Oddity"

"Ground Control to Major Tom"
Don't worry. You're circuit's not dead; there's nothing wrong. Just time for one of those template changes I've grown fond of over the years. The post-it notes are gone. College is over. Time to be something new.

That being said, this was a tough one, 'cause I loved them damn post-its -- and the template I futzed with this time doesn't use tables, so the whole "floating" thing has a double meaning to you html-geeks in the house, but whatever. At least I found a way to keep those screwy scrollbars that bug the piss out of Prewitt. (And I wonder why he's reluctant to illustrate my stories?)

I spent my night doing this so I could try and put this afternoon behind me. I wandered from Teaneck to Bergenfield in search of the meaning of life, and came up with nothing. I once searched FARC for the same thing with similar results, but it was a lot more fun. It was raining -- it's always raining here. My new boots were killing me. I was muttering to myself and laughing at nothing for a bit. "Wait for me, Hobie," I was saying. "I'll be there as quickly as I can find a way, just wait for me."

My first submission to Marvel Comics was rejected... twice. I'm waiting for my rejections from the Missouri Review and Wizard Magazine. I want some ice cream.

Black's the new black and so am I. Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do and so am I.

NEXT:
The Garden State Soundtrack