Supplemental:

I'm pretty sure I ran into someone else over this week. I'm trying to remember who, but's it's not coming back to me...

Well, I just remembered.

Recall a few months ago, when my brother and I were victims of the Costco Con's Ride From Hell, and the agonizing wait we had to get our own groceries back?? Well, on Saturday after work, I went to Costco again. And as I put my belongings in the cab, there he was: in a slouched-like stance, his eyes fixed on mine to see if I'd flinch. In maintaining my posture, the memories of speeding down Fifth Avenue at 90MPH came flooding in my brain. It was the Costco Con, and he was back.

"Ah, so you do remember me?", he asked. "Well man, me was tryin' to dodge de police dem, so I hid 'round the block 'til de coast clear. I remember me had your stuff, so I swung back, hoping the cops left...
Yeah man, they won that one. But I here now, so it nah big deal."

Yeah, sure it was no big deal.
By the way, that's his grammar, not mine...

In the sad shape of things, I had a dream about her last night, the night right before my first Managerial Accounting exam, and the ending wasn't happy. I had dreamt that I saw her on the way to school, stopped everything I planned on doing, and explained to her why I such an ass for not saying how I felt 10 months ago. And after literally pouring my heart out to her, she tells me that she was seeing someone the whole time. Before I responded...
It was 6:30 in the morning.
This is not the kind of dream one wants to have before his exams.
And, if you're asking about the exam, it went pretty swell. That's only one advantage of God being on your side.

Aargh!!! My iPod just went out of battery life! Well, next month might see me with a 3rd Gen 40GB'er. I hope.

The Rundown was a kick-ass film!! One that should have come back in August when it was still summer, but it was nonetheless, worth the wait. The premise was pretty straight-forward, pulling no punches. This is a straight up action film, with few foul-language, and lots o' unnecessary roughness. The Rock may have good success as an action star; but his real challenge awaits him when he crosses over to more drama-like material. And that's something I'd like to see. Seann William Scott's role is similar to that of American Pie and Bulletproof Monk, without any surprises. Christopher Walken's explanation of Beck (The Rock) taking Scott's character being similar to that of a burglar taking a child's tooth awaiting the tooth fairy is so hilarious, you have to see it to believe it. He is not a sadistic villian, just a comical and ruthless one. Pretty good mix. And Rosario Dawson's Mariana character was just awesome (yes, I am being unbiased!); she held her own amongs the other lead actors, and was very believable as the head of a revolutionary pact passing as a bartender. All in all, the film was a 10 out of 10.

I'm working on the fotolog as we speak. As soon as I'm satisfied, the link will be available. Promise...

Okay, before I go, I just thought of this freelance. Partially based on actual events, it's so odd, I have to share it with you. So from the other side, I bid u adieu...

The 4-Train Writer

My eyes wondered about the atmosphere looking to view
something that might hinder attention of odd proportions
til it came across a woman focused on a notebook
her belongings scattered across the seats
her apple juice placed on the floor in neglection.
Piercing through her hands, I found what was holding her captive
the words of her life, spread throughout both pages
her eyes flashing from side to side scanning for errors
She never stopped to wonder if she reached
the destination she had to find.
feverishly she wrote what was coming from her mind
her thoughts as cluttered as the material she wrote on
the material she wrote on as cluttered as her belongings
Wait - she stopped.
We had only reached 14th Street.
What could possibly make her cease & desist?
Regathering my senses, one lucid fact remained:
I've wandered too far...
Wait - she writes again! And faster, more rigorously than before
as if a temporary writer's block had come upon her
and her mind in return struck down at it with a hard blow
saying, "Get thee behind me, insipid writer's block!"
Caucassian, well matured, middle-aged lady in the back
train car of the 4-train I'm riding to get home became
the object of my attention span, wondering how it is that she
had no idea of the life that's around her and only cares
about the life she's living in the sentences she's placing on that
cluttered material in which its remnants fell on the floor.
I place them to the side, in which her thank you is the only sign
of emotion she has expressed on my train ride home.
Fulton Street's train doors just opened, and her mind was still
engulfed into the work she's dedicated to 'til her alarm snapped:
This was her stop!!
Egad, losing track of time can be a pain when you have fun
in what you write, but now it hurts because the fun must end.
Still aghast from the suddenness of it all,
she hastily gathered her books and stood in between the train doors.
Her thirst grew louder, and I was the closest to her apple juice.
I handed it to her in thanks, for an experience no one can duplicate.
Her smile, warmer than body heat of the traincar's passengers
remained a painting in my eyes,
as the mysterious 4-Train Writer
vanished into the exit ramp.