In all honesty, I have nothing to say today. I'm tired and things. Work sucked (again) and there's helicopters constantly abuzz overhead with the occasional police siren whailing down the street thrown in for good measure. What can you say about a day in which not only is your country at war, but the city you live in has turned into a madhouse and you find out about company wide layoffs. That's hitting the trifecta right there. Then there's this whole weird thing at work where I'm supposed to be a secret- under the radar as it were- from the Big Head who runs the company and almost got my cover blown. Strange days indeed.

I could post the usual stuff and I do have the usual stuff ready to go- lots of fun stuff about women at parties and singles events and snarky comments about hippies but I'm just not up to it. Things are just too weird right now. Somehow making twisted observations about people just doesn't seem appropiate. I don't know what's appropiate or what to say or what to do other than try not to give into the temptation of watching the news and drinking screwdrivers to calm myself down.

I'll leave today's thoughts with a poem my dad sent out this morning, one by William Yeats. For some reason, my dad thought this poem summed things up better than War Pigs, but what does he know?

"...Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity."