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I am smack dab in the middle of a sleepless night.

There's a cat in heat outside, yowling like a performance artist.

TV is boring. Unless plotted or written by Joss Whedon. And I'm three episodes away from finishing his oeuvre.

Eric lost 22 pounds? That's kind of inspiring.

Huh. John Hodgman has a blog. And he's poaching awesome stuff from Boing Boing.

Has anyone else seen posters or coming attractions for this Stardust movie? What a premise. Wait, that's my premise. Chris says I should hire a lawyer. What do you think, Jonny?

Remember that moment in Rushmore when Max runs into Blume on the elevator at the hospital? That was a good moment. It's kind of like that around here.

Chris and I were wandering around this afternoon, walking down 23rd when we passed between two young men who maybe hadn't seen each other for a long time. As they parted, the one left behind said, "we should get coffee together some time" and the other, moving away, said, "yeah . . . some time."

Chris and I agree that these men will never have coffee together.

Yesterday, in a bodega on Court street I ran into a friend I've known for over twenty years but hadn't seen in some time. "How's it going?" I asked. "I've been sober for 66 days," he replied. He was buying a candy bar.

I finished a drawing last weekend that took me three weeks to complete and I'm about to start one that will probably take about the same.

Into the Next.