It's finished by the way. Mystery Can is a go, check it out here or over in Everything Else. End joy. I mean, enjoy.

EPILOGUE: I learned a few things from Mystery Can that I think I could only learn from Mystery Can:

• 1. Idiots think bugs are funny.
• 2. If you add paranoia to any dish it will induce vomiting.
• 3. If there's a God, it hates you.
• 4. Fortunes come in cookies. Curses come in cans.
• 5. A list of things you regret can mount up rather quickly.
• 6. Nobody lies like your best friend.
• 7. Anything you tell someone in confidence CAN and WILL be used against you.
• 8. We're really not all that different from the animals.
• 9. What rules?
• 10. If there was a magical "One Free Death" token that you were given by a gypsy that could be redeemed at anytime, inscribed on the back it would have "Except during Mystery Can."

I'm still here, ten days isn't bad. Especially when I'm working on something...

Just wait.

Suddenly, I had grown extremely aware of my own legs and fingers. My autopilot was shot and all of the guys behind all of the desks were scrambling to piece together a schematic that had been lost beyond two decades of conditioning. Walking was virtually impossible and I was in a pathetic state of shock, more like Diet-Shock or the shock you get at K-Mart. How was I going to get home? Assuming I even managed to start the car and successfully navigate my way out of the parking lot, what then? What if this mortality shudder surfaces as I'm doing 70 on the interstate? Then I'm dead.

Holy shit. There it was. I had unknowingly suckered myself into a self-fulfilling morbid prophecy from which there appeared to be no escape.

It was then I thought of time travel. Thought and technology advanced to a point, to someone, is magic. I had time traveled. What is going on?

If I were to tattoo, "STOP ME" in big, bold, and obvious letters across the back of my left hand, then I would know that at no point in my lifetime would I ever time travel. Knowing this, I still haven't tattooed those words and still haven't disproved time travel. Maybe I already stopped myself, maybe I've already saved myself.

Do I have a hobby?

Never stop listening to the electro-pop.

I also found out today that Modest Mouse is releasing Satellite Skin in a week or so on a collectible 6" vinyl and will soon have a video up for it. I came while writing that sentence. TWO ALBUMS IN TWO YEARS, HOLY FUCKING SHIT I WAITED NEARLY FOUR BETWEEN THE LAST TOO. Nothing in the Bible foretells anything as exciting or monumental as this, religion feeds the uninspired and the gullible. Modest Mouse structured reality is far more visceral than anything else, and the motherfuckers made a song about a robot Jesus. WHAT THE FUCK EVER with your regular, diet Jesus. Robot Jesus, whores, ROBOT Jesus is the news.

I still haven't done anything with Hoggifer's cage. It's still in the same place it's always been, just empty. His wheel doesn't turn now and I hate being forced to recognize his absence. These hands just want to cradle him again, hold his beautiful little soul. He needed me to survive and now he's dead. That says a lot.

Someday I would've lost him anyway, I guess. Perhaps he knew who I was, what I was, and loved me, too. He seemed to enjoy it when I petted him and when he would fall asleep on my chest. I'll always miss you, buddy. Forgive me.

This place is somehow quieter, even though he never made a sound.

In his cage was a box of old watches that I put in the corner so he could be closer to the heater, here is where he slept peacefully most nights. So in that box is where I laid him to rest. I buried him outside my room in a nest of thorns so that he won't be bothered, not even in death. Nothing can scare you anymore now, buddy. The pain is gone and I'm searching the depths of my being for the hope that you are happy somewhere, somehow.

Tonight was the last can, caterpillars. I ate them all and didn't even throw up, I did it for Hoggifer. I'm so sorry, kid, I wish I could tell you that I love you, on more time.

I can't even remember what happened today.

My hands are now aware of themselves, there was some crazy lady walking in the middle of the road as I was driving home and I would've hit her had a decent song not found it's way into the shuffle, I have to eat caterpillars tomorrow night, please let my hedgehog be okay. I'm not ready to know that everything I love will eventually die.

Emily had to pack up her life today, end of senior year and it's time for everyone to get their diplomas and start making the world go round. I just hope that most of them end up at KFC and Burger King because honestly, Mary Washington is home to some of the most unsound and desperate morons I've ever met in my life. These kids will just walk out in front of cars, eat rocks and walk around with blue mohawks. If most of them even make into a pair of pants tomorrow morning, not only will I be astonished, but I might just weep and clap. My sincere apologies go out to the future of the world, as I sure hope no one is reading this from some decrepit slum in the not too distance future that was created by the retards that graduated from Mary Washington in '09. May your god by with you.

Actually, get god out of here as quick as you can, he's not safe around them either.

I ran around town looking for pet supplies and interaction, no luck. Some schmuck sold me a heat lamp that has no regulator on it or a dimmer, the bitch just gets hotter and hotter. What am I gonna do with that, guy? Graph melting rates of hedgehogs? Use your brain, holy shit. Then Olive Garden with gf and biffle, then moving shit, then Scotty-doh, then Halo, then home. Maybe in that order. I just realized that Sunday is going to suck.

I saw Star Trek tonight. It was absolutely fantastic. I was somewhat perturbed at the throngs of Trekkies that piled in at the last minute and the incessant clapping throughout the flick whenever a character made some inherently nerdy joke. Dead serious, there's a part where Spock declines an invitation to attend an academy of sciences on his home world that comes off as a rather lofty honor all because some douche at a podium says something along the lines of, "You've done exceptionally well, despite your obvious disadvantage." The disadvantage (in context) of course is a reference to his human mother that the Vulcans see as a tinge to their otherwise flawless gene pool. Anyway, after the old guy at the podium huffs and puffs about what a mistake he's making, Spock says some witty shit and then peaces out with, "Live long and prosper." SUDDEN BURST OF LAUGHTER. What was funny about that? Isn't that what these alien people say to one another? And he didn't even do the hand thing, the Vader Bomb sign. He just said it and stared and suddenly he was Laurel and Hardy. Whatever, Supernerds, at the end of the day you're still ugly and unloved. Then they clapped when Kirk was on the screen. Then they clapped at the title card. Then they clapped when McCoy steps in the picture. Then they clap when they see the enterprise. Then they clap when Scotty appears. Then they clap when...JESUSHOLYFUCKSTOPCLAPPING this isn't a god damned high school play with curtains after every act. It's a movie theater, a public movie theater. No cell phones, no babies, no talking, no texting, NO CLAPPING. It's more annoying than dick-itch at a funeral. God damn.

That aside, I really loved the flick and thought it looked amazing. Quinto was damntastic as Spock, Pine did a decent job, too. I really think the show went to Karl Urban and John Cho who turned the fucking train around on us and showed us what they had hiding up their sleeves all these years. Cho wins it, I will never call him Harold again. He is John Cho. I guess Karl Urban can stop being 'Doom Guy' and can be Karl Urban again. I guess. Oh yeah, Eric Bana, I thought that character was fascinating. He is an honest laborer aboard a mining Romulan mining vessel at the edge of space when a star goes supernova and Romulus is caught in the firewash and ultimately destroyed. His preggo wife was landside and he catches wind of Spock's failed mission to create a black hole beyond the supernova that could've saved the planet. So he goes nuts and get pulled into the black hole with Spock where he's transported twenty-five years backwards in time. He then decides to wage war on the Vulcans and The Federation, because of their complacency in allowing something like this to happen. What's so awesome about his character is that he's John Q. Public. He's a nobody grunt on a mining vessel that takes control of the operation and uses the mining ship as a fortress and a weapon. He wasn't some super genius robotic viral entity, he's just this guy with nothing to lose and an entire universe of hurt to lay out on the people he finds responsible. Bana doesn't play him like a captain, he's not barking orders at random guys in the background. Nope, he's just charged and ready to explode and hellbent on finding Spock's younger self and making him feel, truly feel, pain and fury. Great flick, definitely worth the peep and the ten bucks. Please check it out, even if you hate Star Trek, you can't hate a great movie.

Today a customer came up to the window and said, "You see, I got myself a brand new big screen television 'cause I'm going up to Maryland." I sure do wish it wasn't the bizarre phrasing of the statement that bothers me, as it sure is pretty god damn bizarre. I mean, why the fuck do you have to buy a television BECAUSE you're going to Maryland? Do you have to give the Maryland Border Patrol a television for them to let you through? Do people pay for food with televisions? What the hell is going on in that place? Anyway, no, it wasn't what he said; it's how he said it. "Murruhlend". He had to buy a big screen television because he was going up to..."Murruhlend".

Ugh.