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shiny objects

Sunday, August 21, 2005


Today, I played Dance Dance Revolution for the first time in months. Although I grew winded rather quickly, I still made an "A" grade on most songs in "Heavy" mode. Thank god for muscle memory! My skills remain!

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I had the chance to meet Vince in person tonight. If you dont know who Vince is, just rummage through my blog's comments. He's the sarcastic, literate bastard who signs his comments as . . . well . . . as "Vince."

Anyhow, the two of us drove all over Houston's convoluted highway system, got chinese for dinner, and chilled out at a hookah bar on Richmond Ave. I suppose one way to determine the quality of a hookah joint is by its clientelle. Everyone there seemed to be Middle Eastern or South Asian - a tableau which spoke for the cafe's sheesha before our pipe even made it to our table.

Despite Vince's considerable slep deprivation, he managed to satisfy my craving for rich conversation. You know, Nietzche, indian music, fart jokes, the works.

Vincent told me a story about a man who went up on a plane with some sky divers with the intent of filming their descent. When the sky divers jumped, he jumped with them, camera in hand, but without a parachute. He fell to his death.

Good times had by all.


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