twenty is a long way from home.
i have so much work to do.
my hands are frigid, peppered with blue cold spots.
i have so little time.

i needed the break. my eyes have been sweeping the information off the pages and into my brain. my brain is a dustpan, sometimes a sponge. come sort of tool. a porous cleaning utensil that fosters trillions and trillions of bacteria. a whole festering city of infectious crap. with an up and running metro system, lines of bacilli transporting little amoeba things with squiggly flagella surrounding their translucent purple bodies. some in hats and trench coats, others in sports jerseys and sneakers. some of those bastards even have crude new yorker accents. "eh, watschit buddy! i'm whalkin 'ere!"

my house is haunted. all the electrical appliances were going haywire this morning because of all the lightning strikes.
i think my freezer is busted.

but i do love the weather.
it's so cold and wet and gloomy.
not to say i'm a gloomy person.

been denied the right i am most rightfully due.
last night we lost a star.