Ideas

There are lot of things about ideas that make me wonder. Where do they come from? (No clue.) Where do they go? (Onto scraps of paper, often old receipts, that litter my desk. I started doing that after forgetting one too many good ones. Now I don't forget them, I just lose them - but I consider being lost a temporary state. This is the same phenomenon that, when applied to highway navigation, results in a man driving from Washington to Atlanta by way of Montréal, but never being all that concerned about it, even when the highway signs turn from English to French and Krispy Kreme gives way to Tim Horton's.) And, perhaps most importantly, why do they arrive en masse when I am trying to go to sleep?

Not that I'm complaining, mind you. An idea is a valuable thing, no matter when it arrives. But it's as though I can't have an idea unless I'm horizontal. More blood flowing to the brain, or something. One light goes out, another light goes on. And another. And another. My brain feels as though it's lit up like a Christmas tree. You probably think it's more like the warning lights that come on all at once when your car stalls.

I'm going to bed now. Again. Don't worry. I'll be back.

In the category...

..."I know we've had a lot of rain lately, but this is ridiculous:"

There are a pair of ducks hanging out in one of the puddles on the sidewalk outside my apartment!

Update: after splashing around in the puddle, eating some bread that somebody tossed them, and grooming themselves, the ducks are now napping on the lawn. A few minutes ago somebody walked by. The female woke up and moved a few steps; the male woke up, yawned, and went back to sleep. Says π, who is getting a play-by-play on the phone: "Typical male. 'Honey, what's that?' 'Huh? What?'"

I don't know what she's talking about.

All-nighters

Not that it's been a particular goal of mine, but I've managed to avoid pulling any all-nighters since going back to school two years ago. Come close a couple times, but never had to go a night without sleep. Always managed to get things done early enough - by, say, 2 A.M. - that I could get at least some rack time. I used to pull all-nighters for fun, but I am not now as young as I was then.

Still - are we not men? Are we not young men, strong men?

(Foolish men, desperately behind schedule?)

Yes. Yes we are.

It was the political geography of Australia, and there's a great deal more to it than perhaps I thought going in - surely there must be, else I'd not have left it so long, nor taken so long. Still, it's written, if still in need of final formatting and some graphics - that will have to wait until I can get at a different computer - and I think I can safely say that at this particular moment I know more about the political geography of Australia than most Americans. I even mostly understand the constitutional crisis of 1975, which takes some doing when you consider that it is only slightly more complex than, say, sequencing kangaroo DNA in your garage with nothing more than a magnifying glass and a bit of string. But I understand it.

Go on. Ask me.

Do it quickly, though, because right now I'm running on adrenaline, and I suspect that in about two hours I'm going to wonder why I ever gave up caffeine. And then you're back to roos in the garage.

Crikey!