Another late night.

It's damn near five o' clock in the morning.

I've got two cups of coffee and a shot of espresso in my system.

I'm sweaty and physically exhausted.

Time to write.

Found this article and had a bit of a laugh. Communities of people who take cybersex seriously. Not possible for me. My one experience with the matter was completely absurd. She had a boyfriend who didn't believe in sex before marriage and a shit-ton of sexual frustration, and I wasn't aware that she was getting off to the things I was saying. I wasn't even aware that I'd said anything sexual. A couple of days later she told me that she felt guilty and that it couldn't happen agian. "What?" I asked...

If there is one lesson in life that I've learned in life between then and now is that sometimes it's best to just go with it. "What?" "Why?" and "How?" are quite often questions to which one does not need an answer. The trick, as always, lies in discerning when to ask.

Operating on a shifting timescale means that the thought of playing frisbee at three o' clock in the morning under the dim light in a "park" across the street from your house (that's basically a grassy feild divided by a few paved paths with enough benches to seat over 200 people but are almost never occupied in summation by over four comes naturally to you). That sneaking into said house to retrieve said frisbee, which just so happens to lie in the same room as a sleeping person, is an entirely natural act. Not much a departure from an all-night session of Unreal Tournament though, now that I think of it. It's still coordination fueled by caffeine, doing battle with the inevitable results of a full day on your feet and hoping that your opponent isn't from a different time zone. Ok, so that last bit doesn't apply to frisbee unless you've got a hell of an arm, but I think you get the idea. Diminished sanity or the simple result of following through with the idea that time is relative. It's yours to judge. Dangerous ground, though. It's always five o' clock somewhere...

But this is all out of context. There is, of course, a series of events that leads to late night frisbee.

Lately the word "coffee" will sometimes pop up on my screen at about midnight. It's a cue. Five to ten minutes later I'm outside, at the side of the street. A Toyota pulls up, driven by the fellow responsible for the message, a and I open the door and get in. The best way to describe the guy is that if you hung out with him you'd realize that he's the sort of friend you'd expect me to have, insamuch as you were aware there existed a dude like this. Another ten minutes or so and it's a cup of coffee and a chat that inevitably leads to some oneliners that I wish I had pen and paper to make note of. Of course, the night I do bring them I only wind up with three entries. To wit:

Hardline: Means you're the life of no one's party

Hey, he's trying to get away! Let's beat him up 'cause he's different from us!

They held up their arms because they were scared that they'd be drop-kicked or hit in the face with a bible.

Submitted without context, as life so often is.

Whenever I bring my writing notebook (well technically it's a sketchbook that I write in) along when I'm out with friends it gets cracked open and read, something I rarely bother to do, no matter how much I should. So I'm reminded of things I wrote maybe a year ago that I'd utterly forgotten. Josh (the wheelman) made note of one particular idle thought I jotted down.

Sometimes putting away pen and paper is the thing that makes your brain start working. Perhaps one day I'll find a way to trick myself, to sneak the pen into my unsuspecting hand during a fleeting moment of wisdom. Until then, my best thoughts are lost.

In looking for that bit in the book I came across something I do remember the context for. I was sitting at a coffee shop in Chicago with my friend Dave. A comely barrista came by with the drinks we'd ordered. Our eyes followed. He tapped me on the shoulder, and leaned towards me.

Everything bad that women say about men is absolutely true.

I nodded.

Coffee at midnight is hardly taking things to the extreme, except that it generally means that you're caffinated at two. Factor in a second cup and you're starting to deal with an inability to sleep and little to do in an area where the one 24-hour Dunkin Donuts is the only thing open that isn't a gas station or a 7-11. Which until today meant driving around aimlessly listening to Mindless Self-Indulgence. But for those of you who didn't notice or weren't in the proper region to experience it, today was fucking beautiful. Outdoor activity is all of a sudden on the table, and to hell with the time of day. So, frisbee. At three o' clock.

Not too crazy.

My spring break began today. Fitting, as today was if fact quite springish No plans. Hope to stumble upon some. But that will come later. As for now, It's 6:12 and I should probably start to think about either sleeping. To go to bed past midnight is to go to bed betimes, and all that.