2004-03-24..1:03 p.m.

Among the very last sleeping life thoughts that swam as my alarm went was that of me being expected to explain the origins of the word Gambooled. Note this is not a real word, and so my inability to do so should not have come as a surprise. However, the dream me was getting really worried that she had no idea what the word meant, let alone where it came from, and so I awoke with a vague sense of rising anxiety. �Gambooling� has also been circling the periphery of my mind all morning. I keep wondering if perhaps it�s a sneaky marriage between �canoodling� and �gambling� and that it means �to gamble one�s affections,� but there�s something rather sinister about it (poss because it�s reminiscent of �gaol�) and thus has archaic origins in gambling one�s affections in an adulterous sort of way.

The Things For Which I Have no Ready Explanation HitList:

1. Walking around Holloway with a packet of unopened of corned beef. It�s possible it was being taken to work to have as lunch, however why then was the little man carrying it also carrying nothing else (corned beef on it�s own? ew! I�ve never had it, so I can�t say with any authority, but surely you�d need something to mask the taste?), AND why was he examining a receipt when there are no shops open at 7.20 in the morning?

2. A man in jogging shorts and a windbreaker, carrying a bunch of banana�s and a yoga mat, unlocking the doors to a Tennessee Chicken & BBQ. Seems rather like St. Peter swapping shifts with Lucifer.

3. The smell of twine reminds me of earthworms.

4. The sheer abundance of cars for sale at truly ridiculous prices. Every other car I pass on my way to and from work seems to have a sheet of ruled paper taped to the glass of the passenger side window extolling the virtues of the surrounding vehicle without naming the corresponding defaults that warrant selling said vehicle at such absurdly low prices. Still, if I happen to see a Mini, I�ll be hard pitched to walk past without at least considering.

5. How half the directors at this firm managed to become directors without at some point, somewhere along the line learning how to use a fax machine or addressing an envelope. I�m simply at a loss.

6. Boys, cats, bass guitars, guava, the invention of bread, dry-wipe markers, speech, domesticating pigeons, the painting of elephants, the conception of value when it comes to gold (unflattering metal if there ever was one), the never-endingness of pi and, for that matter, the edges of the universe, my inability to tell left from right without first checking to see which hand makes the backwards L, jogging, my exhousemate Mango, bullfighting, spandex on men.

There are more, but my mind is boggled enough.

Tonight I�m seeing the Koreans (as stated by The Plan, at least), hooray! Full report to follow.

Waiting to the clouds to roll in and the water to become murky,

****meep