Freaky Deaky Day

Routines are funny things. I left the house without my watch and it feels weird. To compound the weirdness, I parked in a different parking space on a different level of the parking garage. And since the rolling stone of weirdness gathers no moss, I went out at picked up my non-fat latte a day early. When will the madness end? Soon I shall wear my shoes on my hands!

I picked up Peter David's Madrox yesterday. Not a lot happens in it, although there are some interesting ideas. A murder mystery of sorts begins but it doesn't interest me very much. It's a shame because Mr. David is usually an excellent writer. I suppose we all have our off-days.

I hope that Miles Davis (Someday My Prince Will Come), Bud Powell (The Best of Bud Powell) and Duke Ellington with Louis Armstrong will make things right again.