Sparrows Fly High, Straight To The Mountain Top

I continue to read Gladwell's Tipping Point, though right now I'm taking a break to listen to Kevin Lyttle (currently the single, My Love) and picking out the next book I'll read--it's a toss up between British authors Neil Gaiman (Stardust) or William Golding (Spire or Pincher Martin). An odd assortment, though what short of quirky (or eclectic) isn't wonted, which is not entirely accurate, in sooth, of what is truly on my mind. Until school starts, however, my aim is to keep to my mind busy at all times. On second thought I'm not entirely sure I know what's happening in my own mind, or whether I want to know, period. Then again, I've never been one to reconcile actions to thoughts, content to deal with things as they occur, and make sense later. It's not the kind of attitude that's much of a money-maker. Bad joke, I know, I know. I'm blathering, too. Not much of a post, either. Wish I had a car to go out tonight, for so many reasons, starting to get fed up with sitting at home alone after work every Friday night.

In the end, if you want to get something out of this post, in light of Caribana, check this out.