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I'm so tired that I can't sleep, so I'm going to write a journal and listen to Kanye West's "Jesus Walks" a couple times. Maybe then to sleep.

Last night, I saw the midnight showing of Serenity. Sitting in the auditorium, I was struck by the obsessive fan culture. There were so many copies of Jayne's pom pom hat. There was a massively fat girl wearing a "Joss Whedon is my master now" tee. The cute redhead in front of me was wearing an outfit like Kaylee in the pilot. Several awkwardly swaggering girls in black suits had blue dentist gloves. There were Mals and Kaylees and so many costumes. I never feel comfortable in those moments; I'm just not that kind of fan.

Of course, I had an 8 A.M. conference call, and I got home at three-thirty. I'm sure I was speaking some sort of monkey language on that call. I got to the office and was presented with a breathless accusation of a terrible bug. I proved that the bug was caused by a bad configuration. When they asked me to verify that the rest of the system (that they hadn't misconfigured and was therefore inviolate) didn't have a problem, I kindly told them to kiss my ass. Honestly.

I looked across the hall while trying to get another conference call going, and I noticed what I thought to be a stuffed parakeet on my midget, stuttering, redneck, nerd neighbor's shoulder. Then the bird moved. By the end of the day, I was planning on killing the bird with a dictionary (my cover story was to be that I mistook it for a camel spider). I also developed the theory that if I see an animal shit on a coworker, I should be allowed a free pass to go home.

My boss tried to give me work to do today when I was leaving at 4:30. I declined.

While driving to kendo practice, I got a call from a new incubator downtown. They want me to join them as the technical director. I'm seriously thinking on the idea. It's been a long time since the shackles were taken off me. I could build something crazy.

Then there was kendo practice. I had a lot of fun, but I hate every single god-damned athletic class I've ever taken. I hate them because the instructors first try to cast the endeavor as the most potentially dangerous activity ever. Later, they try to make it seem the more glamorous cousin of rapture.

I met Luminaire at Gordon Biersch and had pulled-pork sliders while sipping on bourbon. We shot the shit for a while and then caught Serenity again. I really like the movie, but I loved the show. They did a good job of info-dumping where we were in the story without being boring about it. Then they kicked it into gear and made one of those old-school, fun-at-all-costs space operas.

We met DreamMaker there totally by accident. I never see that bastard often enough. We traded contact info again and made promises to kick it again. It'll probably fall through the cracks again, but we'll get it done one of these days.

The drive home was way too long because I drove headlong into a pelting rainstorm. I switched to gravel mode on the ACD and started marching forward. A few miles ahead, I came across three cars that hadn't faired so well in the rain. Waiting for the cops to clear the wrecks took half an hour. I thought I was about to piss my pants.

When I got home, I had mail from the co-founders of the incubator telling me their background. It's like they're trying to sell themselves to me instead of the other way around. It's interesting to know that I still have a bit of a reputation.

There, all that and I'm still not tired enough to sleep. Damn it.