This, too
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'mon, who wants to design a new template for me?
I don't like you people so much as my old, useful readership, all of whom -sadly- perished in the big war on something I just made up, and in the associated purges. It is very early and I am not yet tired. I have to write and buy and post, tomorrow, I am already late doing that thanks to that surprisingly short month we just endured. I'm going to fall asleep in the middle of the day and fail to do anything. Lately, I have a sore throat, and I have been feeling most unusual.
I have been thinking thoughts out of time and place. It almost seems as if without my notice something has changed.
For a long time I have been able to find time enough to think only of the historical development of productive forces as they should affect my political ideals; the axis of taste, volume, alcohol by volume, and monetary expense as it should guide my next purchase in that field; whether Lucy has really left Family Affairs for good and whether that means I'm going to need a girlfriend, now; how I'm ever going to save Aquitaine with the port at Brittany razed and a Spanish Crusade on the way, or how evil is my PC for crashing before I can figure it out; and where the fuck I'm going to go and what I'm going to do to stay gone. Over the last two days or there about (I missed sleeping one night and rather confused myself) I've realised some suddenly significant loss of attachment to whatever the hell I used to think about or know. I noticed that my sister didn't look like my sister anymore, and then that my memories didn't feel so... contemporary, some how. Something is looking suddenly different, but I'm struggling to put it into context.
...as a result, that wasn't really worth posting, was it? Maybe I'll get back to you, maybe I'll get drunk or just go to bed and forget any progress. Also, thanks to this scratchy throat, I coughed quite violently just as I was taking a swig of mouthwash, tonight. Jesus Christ, what a mess.
5:35 a.m. - 2005-03-01
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