observations from my bed:

light is often yellow, especially when filtered through a lampshade which is light brown, and probably also especially when it's from a lightbulb.

my ceiling is speckled.

chaos needs no prompting.

doors are particularly useless when one doesn't care if one's roommates can see one naked. however, doors have the suprise ability to function as things to hang other things from. This is espeically easy to facilitate when one owns a door-hanger-thingy, which hooks over the door, and offers many hooks from which to hang other things.

I wish my wardrobe had a desaturate feature.

keys are an interesting phenomenon of modern culture. what is the importance of keys, and what does it say about a person who never looses their keys verses a person who frequently finds himself without them? I am of the former persuasion, (I don't remember ever loosing my keys,) and I wonder if as such a person, I am missing out on exciting adventures I would otherwise be enjoying if I lost them more often.

water is heavy.

the space shuttle can't launch in rain. This is because the special heat-resistent tiles are somehow not water resistant. (or perhaps--here comes the observation part, I thought of this myself--perhaps at the speeds the space shuttle achieves in it's short flight out of earth's orbit the raindrops are like tiny bullets. I wonder what the speed of a bullet is compared to the speed of the space shuttle. I also wonder what is the speed of your average falling raindrop.

last observation: there are many types of hinge. hinges are a crutial part of modern society. without hinges we are lost (or unhinged). open and close, all day long, only here and there a tiny hinge protest... fixed quickly with WD40. all hail our mighty friend the hinge.

blogs are a trap for the self-obsessed.

Not only that, but I think they foster a self-obsession. It's easy to get into reading blogs, (they're the "real TV" of the internet). And of course anything you read gets internalized to some degree, and then you start to think like a blogger, which then causes you to want a blog... and become self-obsessed.

Look at me! I'm a blogger! W00T!

um, fortunately, I didn't need to start reading blogs to have this sad self-obsession. Here's my favorite poem, (by Frank O'Hara)

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AUTOBIOGRAPHIA LITERARIA

When I was a child
I played by myself in a
corner of the schoolyard
all alone.

I hated dolls and I
hated games, animals were
not friendly and birds
flew away.

If anyone was looking
for me I hid behind a
tree and cried out "I am
an orphan."

And here I am, the
center of all beauty!
writing these poems!
Imagine!

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I think this proves my point.