(no subject)
*goes for a walk around the house*
Fire in the belly from three or four glasses of good wine and a few hours of good conversation. I probably had a few too many, but I don't tend to do that often, so it's ok. I just went out to smoke a cigarette and it's quite hot in the sun; makes me want to stay inside looking at the computer. The longing grows more intense (yet without motivation, still) when I regard my bedroom shelves and the unsorted richness upon them.
And then I did the exact opposite.
Sure, I can listen to a rerun of an earlier show on radio, but it's not the same. I'm writing a letter. This one is a western, and we hope it suits you, hon. Much has happened but I don't feel like writing about it and I don't think you're interested.
So many creative urges are like biting that persimmon. In pigeons, doves and other birds, it shows up as cheesy white patches in the mouth and throat. The dove seemed to enjoy it. I know that stuff like this has happened in this head before, though perhaps not to this degree. I fear I may have accidently created a sentient being in the process. Wird das schöne Wort beknackt eigentlich noch von irgendwem verwendet? I only took one Klonopin.
I discussed the finer parts of industrial agreements, in particular state legislation vs commonwealth. I was told recently that the difference is that mechanical engineers build weapons, while civil engineers build targets. Meh. I'm tired and cranky. Can you tell? Seriously, my memetic identity and referential integrty must be at an all time low.
Anyway, I should go be social now.
Fire in the belly from three or four glasses of good wine and a few hours of good conversation. I probably had a few too many, but I don't tend to do that often, so it's ok. I just went out to smoke a cigarette and it's quite hot in the sun; makes me want to stay inside looking at the computer. The longing grows more intense (yet without motivation, still) when I regard my bedroom shelves and the unsorted richness upon them.
And then I did the exact opposite.
Sure, I can listen to a rerun of an earlier show on radio, but it's not the same. I'm writing a letter. This one is a western, and we hope it suits you, hon. Much has happened but I don't feel like writing about it and I don't think you're interested.
So many creative urges are like biting that persimmon. In pigeons, doves and other birds, it shows up as cheesy white patches in the mouth and throat. The dove seemed to enjoy it. I know that stuff like this has happened in this head before, though perhaps not to this degree. I fear I may have accidently created a sentient being in the process. Wird das schöne Wort beknackt eigentlich noch von irgendwem verwendet? I only took one Klonopin.
I discussed the finer parts of industrial agreements, in particular state legislation vs commonwealth. I was told recently that the difference is that mechanical engineers build weapons, while civil engineers build targets. Meh. I'm tired and cranky. Can you tell? Seriously, my memetic identity and referential integrty must be at an all time low.
Anyway, I should go be social now.