(this is annie)

I am often fascinated by the pattern of thoughts, how ideas are connected and how they sprout. Earlier today, Phil and I went to eat at Bite. A woman at a nearby table was reading the New York Times. I didn't mention it at the time, but I coveted her Week in Review. I jealously peered over at her Sunday Styles section, which featured a large photograph of Billy Crudup. Phil, noticing my jealous newspaper envy, mentioned that he liked Jesus' Son, in which Crudup played a junkie. "That movie is named after a book which is named after a good song," I said. Later at home, I did some arithmetic, and this is why I can inform you that if you add up the four songs on the Heroin self-titled 7", the total length is still shorter than the Velvet Underground's "Heroin." And as I'm listening to Lou singing about the jim-jams in this town, I find myself thinking that "Heroin" would actually be a good song to hear during brunch sometime. My head teems with these useless and curious thoughts, yet I still can't decipher The Waste Land.