warning signs.

For anyone searching for the movie "Signs" and finding my post on "sighns," you're spelling it wrong. Try this.

And speaking of signs, I've been toying with this Big Idea, sort of overmeditating on it to the point of paranoia, where, just when I get ready to say I'm doing it, or to actually begin doing it, something questionable happens. As in, I was ready to annouce it yesterday at brunch and a little piece of my huevos oaxaca lodged in my trachea and I started coughing and reconsidering. Or, as in, I was ready to actually sit down last night and get going, and a certain circuit breaker decided to give out on us thanks to a new air conditioner used in conjuction with a post-haircut vacuum cleaner (by the way, did you catch the hot married couple haircut action on the cam last night? hot hot hot!) and so I sat in the dark reconsidering. So, you can see that I'm clearly either cosmically doomed or irrationally suspicious.

I'm about to spit in the face of fate here, to lower my thumbs a little closer to the diamond grinder, to, I don't know, stick my post-nasal tongue toward the sparking live wire, whatever, I'm just going to say it, and if they find me here, poised over the keyboard, webcam marking the slow cooling of my lifeless body in neat 30-second intervals, well, then you'll know that it really wasn't meant to be, that the cosmos just had it out for me, that, well, you get the picture. And if you haven't already guessed from my sudden urge to embellish way beyond practicality, well, (here it is, wait for it!) I'm starting up with the novel again.