This, too ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In which I forget to go to bed last night, and choose to swear instead I didn't get around to posting anything when last I typed in my word pad dealy. I think that I was too drunk and passed out. But that was days ago, and since then I have been too sober to care about much of anything, so words sat around and I tried to balance remembering things that matter with sleeping enough that I wouldn't just lose them, again. It didn't work. Meh, lets see what was going on... [Your display should go all wavey, now, and somebody should fuck about with a harp or something of that ilk, then we come back] ...Well, half the frigging Sunday edition seems to be about the pissing Pope and what a shame it is that the reactionary authoritarian tosspot has died, so reading that feels rather like a waste of my morning, and, relatively, I feel better for having read a few lines of news review on some Zimbabwean in Poland giving an eighty-eight hour lecture on democracy. I feel inclined to look into moving to either Poland or Zimbabwe in order to get away with rambling on and on and fricking well on for three days without being stopped. But then somebody would beat me up, respectively for making fun of the pope or the president, and I don't know that it would have been worth getting out of bed for. Lately, I have begun to deliberately crack some of my knuckles. I never cared for that sort of thing, but now I don't seem to have any choice. Stupid joints. I expect that in another few years they'll just hurt. I've just filled another shelf with books inherited. The South Africa Problem from 1955 or so and a lovely picture book on the German Democratic Republic should be all kinds of fun. The GDR is totally the wave of the future, but things don't look so bright on the Cape, let me tell you. I think that I had a dream about getting into an argument with Thomas Paine. I can't remember what my point was, but I don't imagine that it had anything to do with anything he would ever have said. It was probably about socks. I'm losing socks at an alarming rate. It would seem that I have said, "Okay, I have to go. I have to go somewhere, Maybe Alex will help me, in Australia." I think that this must be owed to more inspired, drunken times. It reads like a good idea around the corner, but I suspect that this is just the tip of my being-a-pain-in-people's-arses before I finally gave up and passed out. I also wrote, "tidybooksgetout" and I'm sure that they do. Maybe I are crazy. I have been drinking too much orange juice (which I do not really like, to be honest). Okay, I have to go. 3:39 a.m. - 2005-04-07 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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