Honestly, my walkman still smells like violets, and there's an old tape in it with mystery songs around every corner and the situation is pretty great. Otherwise, I'm having a miserable year. I haven't read my horoscope once, and what would it say? "Oh no! Negative seven stars." And what would the picture be like, the beginnings of black holes, seven stars collapsing in on themselves? There are worries, and this apartment is a mess, and my head and throat feel heavy and hot. Everything goes wrong and wronger, but I can't stop being happy, I can't stop smiling at doom. I still have all of my start of the year enthusiasm, and I can't go into a bad mood, no matter what happens. I'm just happy, sick and cold and poor and happy.

Tonight is sort of Danger's birthday, but I can't decide. I think it might work if I go late and only stay for an hour or so, but it isn't always that easy. Last night I went to sleep with the windows open, and now there's a cold in me that won't wear off. What I want for tonight is a bed with pink blankets and maybe Battlestar Galactica, because I promised Jackpot I would, because there's still about a year until Spooks starts up again.

At the end of summer I quit television for a while, but the internet and the fact that this laptop screen is roughly the same size as my television screen have really turned that around. Jackpot and Francis have the same problem, and we only encourage each other with our, "Oh, you have to watch this," and our, "Okay, but then you have to watch this," and it just goes on and on. Why is it like that, why does Jackpot care whether I watch Battlestar Galactica, why do I care if Francis watches The Thick of It, why does it make me happy that everyone I like watches Lost? One night Francis and I were talking about it and I mentioned that even Sam watches it, and Francis was so stunned and pleased, and what is wrong with us? Are we old now, or is it just seasonal, because television is warm and inside while everything else seems to be cold and outside, and when spring comes we'll thaw a little and go back to lives where we'd rather go to parties at night than stay at home with pink blankets?

Between this paragraph and the last there have been two phone calls and a cup of tea, and there won't be any blankets for me. But! We're going to see Other Sam first, and the guy I hate this year will probably be there, so that will be something to do. We'll have a long, cold walk, but Sam has a ghost story for me, so I'll be okay. Now I've got to buy some more tea and a present for Danger, make myself taller and more fun. It should be easy. I have a good coat.