Well, I took my car in. Guess I'll find out what's going on with it later today.

I wanted to finish my buffalo butter today, so I could move on with my life, and onto other butters. I had a can of chicken breast meat, and I opened it and threw it in a pan with the last of the butter. And then, I felt queasy. I was thinking about how long that can had been in the pantry, and about how that chicken was probably killed three years ago, or whatever, and it seemed so weird to me. For some reason this got me really depressed, I thought about this book I read by David Fisher who is a famous vegetarian philosopher and whether it's right or not to eat meat. But I don't think I really care, you know? I've always eaten meat, and I think I always will. It was just weird. That chicken's life-force was extinguished a long time ago, and yet it's flesh persisted, in a can.

I spent the afternoon listening to "On the Beach" by Neil Young and thinking about the things he sings. "The World is turning, I hope it don't turn away"; "I need a crowd of people, but I can't face them day to day"; "All my problems are meaningless, that don't make them go away". Did you know he really likes model train sets? I think I would like to spend a day running trains with him and listening to Roy Orbison records. They say nobody really knows Neil Young. He would never blog. Or if he did blog it would be all ambiguous and you would never know if he was talking about himself or somebody else.

The buffalo chicken was pretty good, I ate it in a salad.