[You wouldn't like me if you met me]
My brother ended his high school career last night. Some teacher confiscated his air horn, of course, so his exit wasn't quite as loud as maybe he'd hoped. He's still not sure what he wants to do with his life, which is an affliction we all suffer, it seems, even when we think we know. For now, he's working. He has a girlfriend still in high school, free rent at home, money in his pocket, and that's simple and sweet enough for me.

He and my parents took off today on a 10-day roadtrip to Gettysburg and some other Civil War sites. They like to make such a pilgrimage every few years.

Being back in my high school gym was odd. Things seem smaller and less intimidating. The principal is greyer than before. But still a dick. I saw my friend Amy (who should e-mail me if she ever reads this and give me her new e-mail address now that she's out of school). She's living back at home, trying to get a teaching job in the area. Her brother bought her a ticket to a two-week European romp -- the whole shebang (England, Amsterdam, Germany, Austria, etc.) I imagine that's going to be a life-affirming couple of weeks.

Whitney and Amber spent the night Thursday. We watched the new Bobby DVD and clucked all night. I miss my cluck buddy. She's the only person who can keep pace with my frantic ramblings by matching them with her own, and we relish each other's neurotic verbal prose. Every time we get together, Whitney and Phil just sit there, stare at the TV and ignore us, which is probably for the best. Friday afternoon we ate at El Mezcal, and then they had to leave. They're trucking it back to LI today. When they get around to it, that is.

Nick directed me to this blog, which is written by linguists about all sorts of language, syntax, grammar, etc. issues. I'm addicted. Thanks, pal.