I saw "A History of Violence" and it was very intense and well-done and I don't really want to see it again because it made me anxious and sad. But it's still a well-done movie, and I appriciate that the violence was realistic. Relatively, for mob warfare, heh.
Something feels lost, though - some of those whimsical entries that are just some flowery description of love, some series of paragraphs devoted to just a moment that may have lasted seconds; it's tangible and I can't figure it out. I just hate reading pretentious entries but were those also just full of themselves? I don't think they were - doubtlessly authentic entries of passion. Tonight I make typos and I don't care.
The consulting company took my freelance writing and they're using it. That's a great feeling. I like the company a lot, and I want to see where it goes. To have a job doing something that I love - that's the definition of happiness, at least to a degree. Speaking of degrees, they've been dropping here, so we'll see snow soon. Before I see snow, though, I'll be seeing both Mike Doughty shows at the Fox Theater in Boulder. Yes.
love,
Jared