Hello world, you bastard...
I'm here again. And not dead yet. Both these facts are mildly surprising.
I quite like this time - well, five o'clock anyways. Makes me want to smoke a cigarette out of the window, listening to 'Island in a Stream' and watching the sky change from black to dusky purple. Don't like dawn though. Night-time - even 5am - you can get away with things. And you can hope insanely for a better tomorrow - all things are possible. But come the dawn, the daylight is prosaic and dreams melt into nothing... Enough of that.
I slept for an hour and a half at lunchtime. I'm quite tired. I should get more tea.
My right eye keeps twitching and insisting it can see things it can't. (Or maybe it can, what the fuck do I know.) My left hand looks like it belonged to a fifty year old with a love of graphite. My right hand looks worse; or more to the point, the same as the left only a decade older and swollen. Lovely.
I'm too tired to think. I can't even tell what song I'm listening to because it sounds like three songs from my CD playing simultaneously and they're all 'plausible without being instinctive' as Stoppard would have it. Inconvenient though this all is, I like not being able to think and not caring either; makes a pleasant change.
I want to write LBP, there are some subjects certainly worthy, but words escape me and I haven't the ability to give chase. Suffice to say, if I could I would write some incoherant doggerel about how eyes can change aspect and colour and how situations can do likewise, about how if your feelings are the ocean they may be deep but they're tidal and about how it's a bad idea to earn the animosity of an ex-demon light-fish.
Yeah. that probably covers the basics.
Tea - need tea now else will crash - eeep...
I quite like this time - well, five o'clock anyways. Makes me want to smoke a cigarette out of the window, listening to 'Island in a Stream' and watching the sky change from black to dusky purple. Don't like dawn though. Night-time - even 5am - you can get away with things. And you can hope insanely for a better tomorrow - all things are possible. But come the dawn, the daylight is prosaic and dreams melt into nothing... Enough of that.
I slept for an hour and a half at lunchtime. I'm quite tired. I should get more tea.
My right eye keeps twitching and insisting it can see things it can't. (Or maybe it can, what the fuck do I know.) My left hand looks like it belonged to a fifty year old with a love of graphite. My right hand looks worse; or more to the point, the same as the left only a decade older and swollen. Lovely.
I'm too tired to think. I can't even tell what song I'm listening to because it sounds like three songs from my CD playing simultaneously and they're all 'plausible without being instinctive' as Stoppard would have it. Inconvenient though this all is, I like not being able to think and not caring either; makes a pleasant change.
I want to write LBP, there are some subjects certainly worthy, but words escape me and I haven't the ability to give chase. Suffice to say, if I could I would write some incoherant doggerel about how eyes can change aspect and colour and how situations can do likewise, about how if your feelings are the ocean they may be deep but they're tidal and about how it's a bad idea to earn the animosity of an ex-demon light-fish.
Yeah. that probably covers the basics.
Tea - need tea now else will crash - eeep...