Silly Ninja

The part of me that is never fully awake is fighting off some kind of infection. Something obscure with a very long name in a language everyone has forgot except for one monk in a far off country who has lost the ability to speak in a religious induced spasm of forgetfulness.

I'm pretty sure the back of my skull, where there are two bumps, has recently become enlarged with fluid. Also my throat is infinitesimally sore. And I want nothing to do with writing. And, um, my arms itch.

It's a beautiful gray day and the gentle sounds of happy children are wafting through the box fan in the window. These children just launched into a chorus of "Happy Birthday" so I'm quite sure they aren't ninjas -- unless they're very stealthy ninjas with a penchant for cake.

Seriously, they're singing in unison which is creepy in a child's laugh in a scary movie way. Now they're singing "Mambo #5" and "Barbie Girl." Please make them stop.

Buy Neal Stephenson's "Cryptonomicon". It's good. I have a small obsession with science in fiction. Not to be confused with science fiction, but actually the nitty gritty scientist stuff. A film that straddles the genre is Infinity. It's a sentimentalized account of the young Richard Feynman starring Matthew Broderick. I can't compare it to any of Feynman's non-fiction because really, didn't I just say I'm all about the fiction?