My dark materials

There's been a hounddoggy quality to recent entries that I'd like to reverse. I'm starting to feel like Harry (to celebrate my 1980s-ness a little):

Harry: Do you ever think about death?

Sally: Yes.

Harry: Sure you do, a fleeting thought that jumps in and out of the transience of your mind. I spend hours, I spend days...

Sally: And you think that makes you a better person.

I have a lot of other things to talk about. Really.