Small world

Aparently the Universe, in a fit of pique, decided to make my world just one quearter inch smaller on the outside by letting me find out who my new upstairs neighbor is. (Also, not that he visits here, constant reader, Sorry I suck so much as a neighbor that I did not find out who you are for six weeks after moving in, I will invite you over for drinks or something someday, promise.)

On a tangentially related note, I've been keeping a .txt file on random thoughts about "What love is" and thinking about how the people I know and/or love know everyone else I know and/or love with many fewer degrees of separation than they relate to, say, Kevin Bacon. My favorite recent entry, hot off the medulla:

Love: is a schizophrenic break coupled with panic reaction and priapism.

But then I have about thirty more, give or take... Love: quenches the thirst it creates. And so on.

Plus: would you like me to tell you a story? It's really quite, um, awful.