Time is a game only children play well

Hey, Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, man. Or, as C* has been saying, "Happy Gobbleday, everyone!" Sorry I've been incommunicado. It's been a little frantic with work stuff. They're going to eventually take this project away from me and give it to someone in-house. A few months ago I might have took this as an affront, but today I see the wisdom of it. In fact, I can't wait to wash my hands of this project.

Anyway, last man on base. There's something timeless about that image. It's a bittersweet sort of feeling. You're probably gone by now, but I feel for you and am pulling for you during your final pre-holiday hours there. I remember my first year of college staying one more day past when most people had left. It was a really weird, but strangely satisfying, feeling. I got really drunk the afternoon before the morning I left, simply because there was not much else to do, and the slight sadness of the desolate campus seemed to call for it. I imagine your wine in the afternoon might be a similar prescription.

We're heading up to the state to the north of us to celebrate with some friends, just for the night. Should be nice. My new Silver Jews CD finally arrived in the mail today. I hope to listen to it on the road. I've half-listened to it today, and I like what I hear--it's a real departure from his other work.

Did you enjoy your comic book and drink last night? I love that image of you falling asleep with one on your chest. Graphic novels are such a fine, underrated literary form. Have you been reading Chris Ware's weekly installment in the Sunday Times Magazine?

Anyway, happiest of gobblefests to you. This is the best holiday--so simple and food-centered, with no weight of meaning or commerce (well, except for the food industry). Are you two celebrating with anyone, or just by your lonesomes? Whatever you do, may it be grand.