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Sometimes I'm just happy to sit around and observe my own thoughts—some voyeuristic third person laughing at what he watches from a safe distance.

Today I ate breakfast with some friends at Alfredo's on 3rd Street in Los Angeles. Except for Lindsay, everyone was in the business. One did music rights licensing for E! Entertainment, one wrote product licensing contracts for Paramount, one was the assistant for a major film score composer. We talked a little about entertainment business stuff and a little bit about personal stuff. Mostly we joked and riffed and shared stories and laughed until we found ourselves lost far off the beaten path from the conversation we thought we were having.

v For some reason I paid special attention to my thoughts as we sat together. They were especially loud—shouting out to me.

It went something like this:

I wonder what it will be like when I move to LA? Roman is sure a funny guy. Leslie gets a lot of phone calls on her Blackberry. It must be hard to be an assistant and work all the time. I'm really excited about music licensing lately. I need to follow up with those people I sent my CD to and see if I can get some licensing work with them. The children behind me are making a lot of noise. It would be funny to push them into the busy street. It smells like spray paint here. Where's the smell coming from? Maybe I should spray paint those kids. Why do people have kids? Brandon has cool glasses. I need more iced tea. I made this one too sweet and need to mix in some unsweetened tea to get the ratio right. I feel like the waitress is neglecting my feeling. OH MY GOD A LITTLE DOG JUST WALKED BY. I WANT TO THROW IT IN THE STREET SO BAD IT HURTS. I wonder if I should tell my friends or keep it to myself? I don't know if they like dogs or not. That dog is small enough to throw, but I'd need to use both hands for sure. That is, if I wanted to get it far out enough in the street. There was that person who got in a fight in traffic and threw the other lady's dog in the street and it got hit and died. They got in so much trouble with the law. Why is someone who killed a dog in prison while people beat and even kill other people and walk free? I'd never throw a dog into the street. I'd use a little portable catapult. Or a trebuchet. Is trebuchet a verb as well as a noun? I need to look that one up for sure.

I noticed the toyings of my mind in those split seconds between words and bites of food. I'm a lot more in tune with the inner workings of my mind these days. It's not a big surprise. I spent a year traveling by myself around the country in my little car. It's a big land, this United Sates place. And, there were so many alone hours where my thoughts were the only radio station to tune in to. I like that station, though—the one in my head. More often than not it makes me smile—although sometimes it's a bit too loud for my liking. But, today it was just right.