So all of the foregoing is copied over from Suicide Girls, given the possibility that when my access expires at the end of the year, those of my words I've entrusted to their bandwidth will be destroyed or archived or some such, and that would throw me into a tizzy of distress at the lack of continuity and antecedent (and at the capricious destruction of so much valuable, precious prose... somebody fucking shoot me.) that I have saved it here. Take that, demons of data recovery.
I'll continue this mental path later... I had had some thoughts which I meant to talk about, but I also have to work in oh... seven hours, and given that it will take me three to get to sleep, I'd say it's my bedtime. Notes to self for later: I had been thinking about skipping randomly, as the internet permits, through segments of peoples' lives as they choose to display them here. I had been thinking about the Dead Letter Office, which I have been unable to determine with any certainty if it even exists. In the confluence of those two ideas... will we find our direction for tomorrow. I leave the night in the hands of those who will use it well... I hope you all have someone to use it WITH. Or a companionable silence within your own mind, at least.

Bailiff, I'll be in my chambers.