If it’s Friday I’m in Maryland/D.C.taking a little trip over this long weekend (MLK is cool). Maybe, even as you read this, I’m in the air above you, flying south across the sky, looking out the little oval airplane window and wondering if I remembered to set the VCR for the Jack Black /the Strokes Sat. Night Live. Or I might still be at Friday Breakfast in the loop. I’ve had breakfast with some friends every Friday for maybe the last five years. I highly recommend it despite being kind of sleepy the rest of the day from the big breakfast. I hope the bad waiter is not there tomorrow morning. He forgets things and sneers at requests for menus and pretty much ignores us and at least one of us ends up really pissed at him by the end of the meal. If we remind him that we still need something we asked for earlier, he says, “I know…” as if we had, for the 28th time that morning, pointed out that he was in fact wearing shoes. It’s as if…Hey! I think someone in our little breakfast club must of slept with him! That would explain so much.

Speaking of breakfast I think I agree with what Donald Antrim wrote in his book the Verificationist:

“We eat pancakes to escape loneliness, yet within moments we want nothing more than our freedom from even having so much thought about pancakes… Nothing can prevent us, after eating pancakes, from feeling the most awful regret. After eating pancakes, our great mission in life becomes the repudiation of the pancakes…However, we fail to learn; and the days go by, two or three weeks pass, then a month, and we forget about pancakes and their dominion over us. Eventually, we need them. We crawl back to pancakes again and again.”

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