For some reason, the song “Peppermint Twist” has been in my head all morning. I was doing a version of the twist across my bedroom, careening from doorway to closet back to doorway and out into the hall, with hops at regular intervals. I didn’t know I was actually doing the Peppermint Twist, but I was. Now with more flailing.

(Does the guy on the left have the biggest head in history or is the image just that distorted?)

My sister is handling the sale of Steve’s Mustang, so if you’re in the market for a classic car, check it out.

… check out the music of Garfunkel and Oates, especially “One Night Stand” and “Pregnant Women are Smug.”

Do not memorize these songs and sing them at work. You will regret it. Ask me how I know!

I’m working the polls on Tuesday, which means I have to be up and out of the house by 5:40. This strikes fear into my slugabed heart and may break my spirit.

“That which does not kill me will only make me want to kill you.” As a mantra, I think this needs some work.

I’m a little surprised that there is still some notion out there that free samples of products is a bad thing.

Take it from someone in the business of getting free fiberglass (whee!) into people’s hands. Free samples work.

So, it’s a bit of a “duh!” moment when I see a headline like this: “Readers Who View Sample Book Chapters Online More Likely to Purchase.”

Is anyone surprised by this? This seems at the same level of obviousness as “Readers Who Read are More Likely to Read Than Readers Who Don’t Read,” or “David Bowie is a unevenly-pupilled god among men.”

My caveat is: If you can’t write for shit, you’re better off offering a free box of Cracker Jack with every purchase. Or being Dan Brown. Whichever works for you.

I’ll go weeks or months without listening to David Bowie. Then, boom. I become re-obsessed.

You ain’t seen nothin’ till you’ve seen me doing a funky strut around my kitchen to “Fame.” Of course, since you’d immediately have to gouge out your eyes, this is probably a good thing. I think several of my neighbors and at least two of the cats need therapy now.

It’s that time again, and I was half-heartedly considering playing this year. It’s usually an intense experience, and definitely distracting.

But.

You know I’m a dilettante. I know I’m a dilettante. It’s time I start acknowledging that writing, poetry or prose, is just noodling for me.

And once you think about fifty thousand noodles, well, you can’t unthink it.

November. I can no longer attempt to deny that it’s closing in on the holidays. I’m filled with utter dread.

Does anything good come from our societal obsession with holidays? Overspending, overeating, overdrinking, pressure, depression, loneliness, and (my friend this year, most likely) despair.

I know I’m feeling maudlin mostly because it’s really late and my feet are cold. And I know that dread does no one any good. The same time that is bringing holidays ever closer is making me ever better to deal with them.

So, happy Standard Time Day. Happy November 1. May each day be better than the last.