"The blizzard of the world has crossed the threshold, and it has overturned the order of the soul."
Yeah, long subject line. Thank you, Mr. Cohen. Jesus, the day is bright. Bright and cold. It's 57˚F and sunny. And there's not a leaf in sight. Unless you count conifers, and I don't.
And I have a quote from George R. R. Martin ~ More and more, I grow convinced that the internet is toxic. Every controversy brings out the trolls and toads, of every political, religious, and literary persuasion, most of them anonymous, all of them venomous. You can't control the assholes on your side and I can't control the assholes on my side.
This is going to be very, very short (or as the morons say, "super short"), because I took Seroquel last night, to head off a third straight night of Insomnia. And I still didn't get to sleep until almost six. I'm not awake, and I'm not asleep, and I'm verging on psychotic.
No writing yesterday. Some sort of busyness work that I actually cannot now remember. Kathryn and I went out for a walk, because the day supposedly reached 70˚F. We made it as far at Dexter Training Ground. There's was a chill in the air. The trees were bare. The grass isn't even growing very well. Kathryn took two photos for me, for the blog, but Nemo is all about being wide angle, and they're mostly sky, so I'm not using them. So, no photos.
Really, this might be the day I axe murder myself. If I only had an axe.
More Daredevil last night. There are moments when Drew Goddard lets things get a little too Joss Whedon* ("stabby," for example), but, mostly, I keep thinking, Why couldn't Constantine have been one third this good?
Asking the Hard Questions,
Aunt Beast the Sleepless
* Please note, I am sort of a Whedon fan. So shut up. Yeah, I mean you.
And I have a quote from George R. R. Martin ~ More and more, I grow convinced that the internet is toxic. Every controversy brings out the trolls and toads, of every political, religious, and literary persuasion, most of them anonymous, all of them venomous. You can't control the assholes on your side and I can't control the assholes on my side.
This is going to be very, very short (or as the morons say, "super short"), because I took Seroquel last night, to head off a third straight night of Insomnia. And I still didn't get to sleep until almost six. I'm not awake, and I'm not asleep, and I'm verging on psychotic.
No writing yesterday. Some sort of busyness work that I actually cannot now remember. Kathryn and I went out for a walk, because the day supposedly reached 70˚F. We made it as far at Dexter Training Ground. There's was a chill in the air. The trees were bare. The grass isn't even growing very well. Kathryn took two photos for me, for the blog, but Nemo is all about being wide angle, and they're mostly sky, so I'm not using them. So, no photos.
Really, this might be the day I axe murder myself. If I only had an axe.
More Daredevil last night. There are moments when Drew Goddard lets things get a little too Joss Whedon* ("stabby," for example), but, mostly, I keep thinking, Why couldn't Constantine have been one third this good?
Asking the Hard Questions,
Aunt Beast the Sleepless
* Please note, I am sort of a Whedon fan. So shut up. Yeah, I mean you.