My birthday was quite pleasant, and today has been no different. Yesterday I bought, courtesy of the Borders gift card Sara got me, Umberto Eco's Serendipities, Conrad's Heart of Darkness, and Melville's from which I took the name of my newest ferret, Dr. Long Ghost. After everyone left, I drank some beer, discussed the apparent tragedy that is Aliens vs. Predator with my brother when he stopped by, and read. Today has consisted of two activities: listening to Black Sabbath (and now Motorhead) and more reading. The weather is beautiful, the beer is cold, and my brain is active, so as soon as I'm done writing this entry, I'm going to work on what may be my next novel.

Thanks to everyone that made my birthday as good as it was, either through dropping me an email, calling on the phone, or showing up to knock back a couple cold ones. I hope that I can return the favor sometime.

I'll leave you all with Julian Cope's brilliant review of what has to be one of the most mind-blowing albums released in a very, very long time: Sleep's Dopesmoker. Everyone should own this religious monolith of a record.