Saturday night, ten-thirty. I hide my nails from view, not from shame or modesty, but to keep light and careful fingers on my wallet and cell phone. We are standing less than a block north of the county library, at the 'hard rock' stage of Big Spring Jam—which, notably, is not held in the spring.

(It took me a year to find out that the park in downtown is named Big Spring Park. Thus, the festival is named after the park it is held in, and does not—as I originally assumed—point to the inability of local officials to distinguish spring from autumn.)We are playing at sanity tonight, Danielle, Jeremy, and I; we are avoiding the testosterone insanity of the mosh pit for a cushier, less-cramped view a few hundred feet back. Instead of jostling for room and oxygen up front, we are standing on the tiny strip of grass that separates the parking lot from the street.

Let's compare… As always, usernames not changed, for purposes of ridiculing the guilty.

Again, more from Jody. As always, short on exact quantities; modify, adjust, and generally tweak as needed.

Scallops Harmonic

Large sea scallops
Small bottle of sambuca
whole milk buffalo mozzarella cheese (this stuff is CRACK)
shallots
clarified butter
cracked black pepper
sea salt

Mince the shallots, and turn on your broiler. Season scallops to taste.

One of two little recipe notes that Jody gave me a week or two ago and suggested I try. Exact measurements—bah, do what seems right for you. Experiment. Play with your food. It's fun.

Saffron rice with peas and pimentos

Good quality jasmine rice
Water (twice as much water as rice)
about 6 saffron threads
2 cans green peas
1 small can pimentos
chicken thighs

I've decided that the best way to handle such a deeply bizarre situation as this one is to treat it like the ludicrous thing it is; something so dumbfounding and jaw-dropping that, well, all you can do is just laugh, because there isn't a rule in the rule book for this sort of special circumstance.

Everyone over the age of twelve likes to fancy themselves the keenest, most astute judge of human nature to walk this earth, myself included. Luckily enough, most of the time, the fact that you're deluding yourself only sends you out on a couple of bad dates or leads you to bet on the wrong sports team in the Super Bowl.

I wonder about people who are crazy enough to do online journaling of any kind. Are these people safe to be seen in public with? Can they be trusted not to drool on themselves (or others near them)?

Every now and then, in the 0.000076 seconds between thought and thought-quashing, I think, "It would be interesting to have something along the lines of a blogmeet."