Good to see you and Ms. Weiss last night. That's why I went to Linguist Guy's digs in the first place: to talk to you two, and to She Who Will Not Practice Law.

But Mr. Linguistics was in fine form.

I'm not sure what the point is of cannabis vodka without any THC in it, but I did discover that if one has enough of it, this deficiency can be counteracted.

Halloween is always such a magical time—even when one celebrates it the previous weekend.

Pax et lux, my friend.

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. . . I went to the second Catholic wedding of my life.

The first one, of course, was my own. I hadn't converted yet, so among the four of us kneeling at the front of the church there was one Catholic: my husband.

Mass took a while, since two-thirds of those attending went for blessings rather than the Eucharist.

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Val is there, too. He and Hog are sharing a joint and I'm reading a magazine in the corner. Eventually I take a blanket off of Hog's bed and curl up in it while I finish the article. They laugh at me.

"I can't help it," I tell them. "It's freezing."

Val looks at me. "Do you know what the freezing point is? he asks.

I look up at him over the tops of my glasses. "As a matter of fact, I do."

What's wrong with everyone's fucking irony meter?

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. . . with pumpkin pie for breakfast make me loathe to recommend it as a weight loss regimen.

However, my body is just singing with beta carotene, so I've got that going for me.

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. . . I realized that a tiny shard of ice in my heart had finally melted, after years. It was a little sliver that I never even admitted to; I didn't have to.

After all, I have words for everything. And the words mean this: I am right, I am right, I am right. Why I write, why I write, why I write.

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It's going to be a beautiful October night.

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