Don't you love it when life is stuck in a rut? Everything repeats until the rut turns into a canyon. I wouldn't mind if there was a river with rapids down here, but my canyon has been chiseled, not by water, but by the incessant tread of the mundane. It's merciless. Things change so slowly that I'm almost inclined to believe Charley Darwin. Except things aren't getting better. My canyon isn't layered either. Its all one deep stretch of Precambrian. Nothing to break the monotony. Its all the same. Bland. Like this entry. It goes on and on until everything blurs into one hazy, crusty smudge. There's nothing new under the sun. (It might help to get out from under it.) It seems pointless sometimes too. "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity" says the preacher. And as old as the hills. (Ever realize that saying has become a victim of its own meaning?)   ¶ 10:55 PM