i have nothing to say. it's the wonderful self indulgence of exhibiting your doings in the world that is so alluring. perhaps i should just put up some photos of myself.
so. but i guess i'm trying my hardest not to think. i just finished a 4 year stretch in a prison of my mind, where the continual exortation was to analyse and criticise and I don't know if I can be arsed right now to be coherent.
but motivation succeeds action, so i have begun to speak.
today has been one of those days that
a) you rather you hadn't got out of bed
b) you stayed in bed but nothing happened
c) are blessed with the joys of living
d) was none of the above.
answer: d. it was reasonable. i managed to get out of my sloth and do 5 things that needed doing, if you don't count the pots and crockery that needed washing individually.
so now i'm having a cup of tea with milk in it. joy!
and that's the end of the story.
i've always been crap at endings. i think it's because i was right in the first instance, and wonder if it was worth the effort. for the reader. i'll try again later.
maybe next week.