Knees and toes

Does it ever strike you that our conscious selves are wrapped up in the task of preparing us, even hurrying us along to our deaths, and that it's our dark, greedy animal shadows or ids or whatever you like that are keeping us stubbornly alive? Maybe that's just my conscious self. Maybe I'm just exagerrating to myself, how unhealthy I think my professional life is. Because I'll tell you one thing: it sure as fuck isn't my shadow keeping me there. Sorry for all the whining, but if I have to be annoyed by my job my blog will have to be too.

Went driving again last night. I still suck but I'm getting to participate in the flow of traffic - luckily most of Belgium sucks, too. My guide only had to yell at me once. Poor guy. It's getting funner and funner. Still, once I've pocketed the license, that's it, pretty much. No driving until I move to a better country. Seems silly, and expensive, but I'm laying steep odds we will be moving to Australia - it's early days yet, but the indicators are pointing in that direction - and I won't wait the two years to get a license there.

Last night I had a dream Richard E. Grant did a commercial for Head & Shoulders. I couldn't work out whether or not it was a joke even at the time. His hair is alright, I guess, but it doesn't start at the typical place one sees in hair commercials. He had short, poofy bangs, too. It was a all a little, for lack of a better word, gay.