gather a small pile of rocks by the roof's edge and carefully take aim. I have
to be cautious. Careful. A pebble dropped from this height -- I remember the
stories about the penny dropped from the top of the CN Tower that sunk six
inches into the concrete below.

I select a small piece of gravel and carefully aim for the windshield of a
little blue Sony Veddic and it's bombs away. I can only follow the stone's
progress for a few seconds before my eyes can no longer disambiguate it from the
surrounding countryside. What little I do see of its trajectory is
disheartening, though: the wind whips it away on an almost horizontal parabola,
off towards Boston. Forgetting all about Newton, I try lobbing and then hurling
the gravel downward, but it gets taken away, off to neverneverland, and the
windscreens remain whole.

I go off to prospect for bigger rocks.

You know the sort of horror movie where the suspense builds and builds and
builds, partially collapsed at regular intervals by something jumping out and
yelling "Boo!" whereupon the heroes have to flee, deeper into danger, and the
tension rises and rises? You know how sometimes the director just doesn't know
when to quit, and the bogeymen keep jumping out and yelling boo, the wobbly
bridges keep on collapsing, the small arms fire keeps blowing out more windows
in the office tower?

It's not like the tension goes away -- it just get boring. Boring tension. You
know that the climax is coming soon, that any minute now Our Hero will face down
the archvillain and either kick his ass or have his ass kicked, the whole world
riding on the outcome. You know that it will be satisfying, with much explosions
and partial nudity. You know that afterward, Our Hero will retire to the
space-bar and chill out and collect kisses from the love interest and that we'll
all have a moment to get our adrenals back under control before the hand pops
out of the grave and we all give a nervous jump and start eagerly anticipating
the sequel.

You just wish it would *happen* already. You just wish that the little climaces
could be taken as read, that the director would trust the audience to know that
Our Hero really does wade through an entire ocean of shit en route to the final
showdown.

I'm bored with being excited. I've been betrayed, shot at, institutionalized and
stranded on the roof of a nuthouse, and I just want the fucking climax to come
by and happen to me, so that I can know: smart or h