Blogger hates me. I haven't been able to log in in days.

Maybe too, last night and this morning anyway, there's a weak wireless moment at my new place, which is a palace by the way.

I got happy Saturday when I returned to work and found copies of Alli Warren's Cousins waiting for me, which I loved immediately. It didn't seem to be fronting any shields, but if poetics is your coin and you just can't help yourself, go ahead and write your 1,000-page adumbration. You might get, um, close.

Cousins only sucked when it ended, that it ended, my semaphorical more plea to please not stop thrashing a little bit when I closed it.

I keep thinking if I type quickly enough, Blogger will publish this.

Zow.

Sunday afternoon at the Make-Out Room was alarmingly good, although nobody was injured. Noelle Kocot is not an endorsed candidate but a free charge, and I'm voting for her.

I'm just throwing the rest of my dinette set out the window and seeing if this post will take.