While cleaning up, I found a note from my Dad giving me instructions to his house, from when I first arrived in Seattle. "It should be a really easy number to remember because it's simply my house number plus 1,999, times 100, plus my street name. Plus six. I guess the six is the hard part."

I also found some other notes to myself which aren't very coherent at all:

Wandering through life, shutdown shutdown, turning away from the things that cause you pain.
When you think you've steeled yourself enough to face them again, you turn back and there's nothing.
No pain, no nothing. It's a pamphlet that doesn't say what you thought it would. you drop it and turn away again,
but this time you have less. After enough of this you find you have gone flat overnight.

Must've been a long night.

At one point, the discussion was centered around a certain 6 song CD:

At this point, everything seemed to start moving in slow motion.

Why? Why did somebody have to say that out loud? At that point I almost asked. I also almost involuntarily said "duhhhhh." It's one of those conversational inevitabilities that you see coming from ten miles away, and you wonder who's gonna be talky enough to actually say something that obvious out loud. See, Brian does it all the time (especially during movies. "Wow, he jumped off the cliff! Ohhh, it's really far down!"), but this time it was Kris, which is a little uncommon. Then again, they were all incredibly stoned.

In our little group, a lot of jokes get told in which you can see the punchline coming from real far off. Like a ball off mud flying through the air in slow motion. Then it splats against your head. Splerrrrrrcch.