Today’s soundtrack: I was kicked in the belly today and it wasn’t fair play.
Today at 11:02pm: Doctor Mouse Jockey on the ones and twos.


What I recommend you do is this:

- Move to Manhattan
- Get a car (any car will do, doesn’t have to be anything fancy)
- Drive around in the rain while playing Esthero’s “Wish You Away.”

This track is like...a girl you’ve just seen and you can’t believe how beautiful she is, the sound of her voice, her mannerisms, everything, and you fall in love with her right away. You want to live and you want to die.

The first time I heard this song all the best and worst moments I’ve ever had in relationships suddenly came whipping across my field of vision. It was like a Sade moment except Esthero is white.

According to our friend the World Wide Web, Esthero lives in Toronto, which is where I’m headed on Thursday. If my guardian angel is reading this, please let me meet her. Have her T-bone my hatchback with her SUV or something. (Don’t kill me though.)

The Sabumnim pushed us hard today. Fingertip pushups and grueling stomach exercises and holding tortuously low stances until your legs burn and tremble. The people on either side of me gave up several times (admittedly, they’re carrying around a little more weight than I am) which made me want to continue harder.

A graceful, dark-eyed girl with a complicated South Asian name was in class today and she asked me a question I couldn’t answer. I’ve seen her move and I think she’ll pick the art up quickly.

I told you, no? Tomorrow my dojang’s having an open house at seven. Bring sweatpants.

Dammit! Walking up to the garage with a cup of deli coffee and it starts to hail. Little tiny pieces of hail are stinging my face and, more importantly, falling right into the mouthhole I ripped into my coffee lid. I didn’t think it would matter but those little pieces are like tiny ice cubes! They made my coffee cold, crazy quick.

I had to go back to work tonight to finish up some extra renderings. The benefit of the economy being in the shitter is that when you have extra work, you don’t feel sorry for yourself. Even though sometimes I like to go in the bathroom, look in the mirror and say “I can’t work like this...I don’t even know my own kids anymore.”

Anyways it was just me and the cleaning woman up until about 12:30am. If only she was forty years younger, hot and attracted to conflicted fellows dressed in brown. Put that vacuum down, hot mama! Let me sweep you off your feet and we’ll get in my...er...hatchback and I’ll take you to the best dive diner in all of Queens. They let you smoke and the pie ain’t bad.