This is going to be a crazy week. Sadly, this means that I will only be posting today and that today’s post will be a total cop out. I know that I am at risk to lose the audience I’ve built up since last September, when the Gawker interview ran and kicked off AJS mania. But I’m sure all five of you people can find better things to do this week than to read the squirrelly cries for help of a 34-year-old thrombo victim-to-be. Like a bad case of halitosis, I will return next week, at which point I expect to be talking to myself again. However, I promise the following theme week upon my return: AJS’s Greatest Hits. Each day, I will republish a notable entry gone by, and make fun of myself for ever having posted it. I know what you’re saying: Hindsight is 20-20, but so is getting drunk on sour mash whiskey and pecking at the keyboard. But a writer’s got to write. Suck it.

Finally: If you are able, I encourage everyone to see my pal the singer-songwriter-funnyman Jonathan Coulton perform this Friday (the 18th) or Saturday (the 19th). Sure, Mr. Coulton — who is to John Hodgman’s Little Gray Book lectures what Zorak is to Space Ghost Coast to Coast, will be competing for your attention with the NCAA basketball tournament and a Slint concert. But neither of those events boasts the song Dance, Soterios Johnson, Dance. The details: Abingdon Theater Stage II, 312 W. 36th Street, First Floor (between 8th and 9th Aves); 10pm; $7 (cheaper than the big-ass sandwich I ate for lunch today!).

The depressing inevitability of a sink full of dirty dishes.