Every morning when I open my eyes I wonder what I can do to make myself famous. It's become my ambition, almost my raison d'etre, to burst upon the city like fireworks - Coco in "Shanghai Baby" by Wei Hui

I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather my spark burn out in a brilliant blaze than it be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. - Jack London

How will I tackle today? So far, I've forced myself from my bed, stretched my stiff old muscles, and did 50 crunches. Then I hopped on the couch and began reading a ridiculously funny, page turner by Steve Hely that I picked up the other day while perusing Borders. I was in the sun all of 10 minutes and I have a super cocoa suntan. Later on, I'm supposed to be meeting a guy for a movie and some grub but we'll see. Something tells me he's a sneaky little devil masquerading as a saint. He only calls me when he leaves the house, which is quite often but odd. My suspicion is that he's married or shacked up and trying to snag some side swirl. He goes for afternoon walks and calls me while bumbling along, breathing all hard and competing with traffic noise to be heard. Yeah, alright, potna. My desire is to maybe stroll along Colorado and poke my head into a few shops, pick up some frozen yogurt and then stop off somewhere for lunch, maybe finish my book in the park. But if he calls me back (he called yesterday during one of his daily walks but I was on my way to see Harry Potter and couldn't be bothered with small talk at that time so I haven't returned his call) I'll meet him at the Cheesecake Factory or somewhere comparable and chat him up, see if my intuition is on the money. Or at the very least if we're anywhere near compatible. So far, the signs aint pointing north.