One day....
One day I may disappear
Don't be too suprised
Because I got tired of noisy alarms and phone bells
And I don't think we're meant to stay here very long
I don't dream of bringing heaven down
Not like this
I'd rather move on
One day I may go for the longest while
Don't be too shocked
I get tired of sneaky societies and combat boots
And I don't think we're meant to stay here very long
I don't dream of bringing heaven down
Not like this
I'd rather move on
"Disappear," - My Brightest Diamond
Not necessarily a pertinent bit of lyricism, at least to mine situation. but certainly a common sentiment round my head and a beautiful song that seemed... right for the night.
Finishing my zine tomorrow, Underwater Cigarettes v. 2... I brought it all with me to Ottawa in a poy-fect little envelope and promptly forgot to birth the damned child I slaved over for 5 days of gluestick mania (ie; get the thing copied!!!). I can't wait to see it realized. It's the only Christmas present I need.
I've been very cold this night. Eating melting whispers of chocolate-bits and playing lap host to my very-much-missed kitten, Satchmo. Not a night to venture, not in this rain, and ice. I see christmas looming it's sparkly head, and for some reason I'm not minding... it seems all a parcel of the general Good Times Snowball Effect that's made itself a welcome state in liz-land. After my body crapped out on me in about 17 ways on wednesday... I woke up thursday to mass turnaround on all those 17 fronts (17 being an entirely arbitrary number, I don't like to count my ailments quite that closely...)
I learned today that I highly dislike easy jobs. They are too easy. And I like to nurture skill. (going home in a sweat is some small price to pay for the rush of being good at one's job). I feel my friends orbiting in rhythm and time, and coworkers won't have to deal with me anymore... life is a good puppy nowadays.
(my tea's still cold, tho)
Oh well.
Don't be too suprised
Because I got tired of noisy alarms and phone bells
And I don't think we're meant to stay here very long
I don't dream of bringing heaven down
Not like this
I'd rather move on
One day I may go for the longest while
Don't be too shocked
I get tired of sneaky societies and combat boots
And I don't think we're meant to stay here very long
I don't dream of bringing heaven down
Not like this
I'd rather move on
"Disappear," - My Brightest Diamond
Not necessarily a pertinent bit of lyricism, at least to mine situation. but certainly a common sentiment round my head and a beautiful song that seemed... right for the night.
Finishing my zine tomorrow, Underwater Cigarettes v. 2... I brought it all with me to Ottawa in a poy-fect little envelope and promptly forgot to birth the damned child I slaved over for 5 days of gluestick mania (ie; get the thing copied!!!). I can't wait to see it realized. It's the only Christmas present I need.
I've been very cold this night. Eating melting whispers of chocolate-bits and playing lap host to my very-much-missed kitten, Satchmo. Not a night to venture, not in this rain, and ice. I see christmas looming it's sparkly head, and for some reason I'm not minding... it seems all a parcel of the general Good Times Snowball Effect that's made itself a welcome state in liz-land. After my body crapped out on me in about 17 ways on wednesday... I woke up thursday to mass turnaround on all those 17 fronts (17 being an entirely arbitrary number, I don't like to count my ailments quite that closely...)
I learned today that I highly dislike easy jobs. They are too easy. And I like to nurture skill. (going home in a sweat is some small price to pay for the rush of being good at one's job). I feel my friends orbiting in rhythm and time, and coworkers won't have to deal with me anymore... life is a good puppy nowadays.
(my tea's still cold, tho)
Oh well.