Juggling acts are fantastic. Especially if stuff is on fire. Like kerosene-soaked bowling pins. I'm excited, but i'm not. I'm busy but i asked for it. I layered improperly. Time to juggle. One cannot Fred Flintstone it with 30 miles between gigs. I'll have to let a pin burn out before the act. Nullify. There's still a resounding thud if i toss it into the night sky and cannot track by flamelight the pin falling back to earth, clobbering me in the process. [Whew..] And what of this new font? Hookah-induced no doubt. Am i a power user yet? I can't keep up! Even when i dedicate myself to this domain entirely. That's juggling more-still. Crap, i'm drowning. What is it about human nature that causes all of our events of true interest to happen under cover of darkness? It could be argued that we have an inborn nature to work under the sun and play under the stars. But! What of the so-called weekend? We errand and idle during daytime, waiting only for the sun to fall to mischieve and gallivant. Are we, as a civilization, ashamed of our deeds that we do under the sun-less sky? I'm inclined to generalize in the 'yes' direction. Advocacy for the beast tells us: "Everything looks cooler at night." Can't argue with that. Why not? Because my human shame prevails. I see the illness but my own filthy nature makes me powerless to kill it off and party during the waking hours. The closest we've gotten to salvation are cookouts, but you know we're all waiting for the darkness.