The Transcendental Turn

I'm at Arts Cafe reading my Kant and writing a precis on the Transcendental Analytic. It is slow and arduous, made moreso because of the way the light bulb hangs naked in front of the window that I'm facing. Seen from the corner of my eyes, I keep thinking that there is a poster of a smiling Dale Earnhardt Jr. looming constantly over me. It's pretty disconcerting, and it forces me to look up in the middle of paragraphs.

Remember Remember.

The Birth

Oh yeah, and our landlady had a baby in the apartment just above where Matt, Owen, and I were watching X-Files. It's a boy!

The Proposal

So I was hanging out yesterday and something came up where somebody was making fun of me and told me to "go blog about it". Well, I think that's a great idea. And I will. As soon as I remember what it is. I think it was something funny.

Remember Remember

I was thinking about myself just now and came up with this little ditty in anticipation of November fifth and in celebration of the day of my birth:

Remember remember the seventh of September,

The day Kyle Valade was begot.

I know of no reason

That day of the squeezin'

Shouldn't be cared for by a lot.

The Upstairs Neighbours

The people upstairs, whom I have never met, seem to be playing indoor soccer.

The Tidy

As of now, I am licking my paws and thinking of my former lover. Ah! But if I only had my testicles!

The Fucks

The fucks that forgot to put knobs in our doors came back again while I was sleeping.
They always come before eleven to make a ruckus in my kitchen.
One time it pushed Matt into my bed.