Romanticism Now!

I had no idea that Byron had an uncle.

Captain John "Mad Jack" Byron wrote A Narrative of the Honourable John Byron (Commodore in a late expedition round the world), containing an account of the great distresses suffered by himself and his companions on the coast of Patagonia, from the year 1740, till their arrival in England, 1746; written by Himself.

Dude. His name was Captain "Mad Jack," even.

Eh.

I was going to go jogging tonight, but my running partner canceled on me. And then I had a big bunch o' emails to write. And now there's not much time left before the movie (not for running and showering etc. anyway). Besides, now I am lying on the floor of my apt like a beached jellyfish in all my blobby glory.*

All of which is to say that I am rationalizing not going jogging. Again.

* Note for the literal minded: by "lying on floor" I mean "hunched over computer" and by "jellyfish" I mean "disgruntled grad student". I think the "blobby" part still applies though. I feel inert, gelatanous, and like I might be up for chasing after Steve McQueen verrrry slowly.