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Yes. Before you get the chance to holler in my face in that tinklingly brash voice, this post is a nearly inadvertent child of a minor thing that might seem to affect a lot of people (read: a mind with a chronically broken off switch) and a muse I rarely get to gaze on these days (unbridled net connections...as free as 256Kbps lets them be anyway).If you like your children with a full complement of godparents too, let a month long vacation watch long and short over this bauble. Amen.
Who, also cunningly harbours the first felon that proudly brings this rant to you. Thought-full ins-ominous.
Kindly tell me oh blessed mortal, what do you do, when sleep staunchly refuses to see thy door, talk craftily prevaricates any chance you have at it and the goblins at sms eat li'l children for a midnight snack conveniently throwin' a thigh bone in those works as well.
When a renegade bunch of neurons holds you hostage to prose, verse or blasted unrequited dismembered thought? When the body seeketh blissful sleep and the sinister brain screeches audience.
When thought looks for another with the darn flashlight right in your eyes, seemingly in voids that'd happily devour darkness itself. Or worse, when words yearn to burst, and not even that broken goblet you secretly collect spiders in can be found?
Ah well.Answers too, seem to determinately believe the time is right to catch up on those doodled-Yankee questions last seen floating in the Italian Woods near Dopehagen. Leaving me rather wanting, and not so slightly hungry.
And smiling be thy sky, for a rather beckoning apple-blueberry cake-thing blesses the fridge. Amen.
Today,officially marks round about a fortnight since the day i left the -now morbidly emptied- havens of my college-hostel.And,to my credit,till not less than a night ago I led a college free dream-existence as well. I've survived a back*,ST buses and local trains,the ennui of coming to a city practically dead on its feet,endless hours of computer-abuse and bonechillingly,not a single book.A million words,and not one off the crinkly pages of my most accomodating consort,the lovely,paperback.
How? Beats me.
Why? Hell,that one scares me.
A movie a day,with a day stretching its lazy,swollen toes comfortably over things like midnight is scarcely an excuse for such an unlettered existence.Not even those ruddy 3 hours magnum-opii.For someone who's to read list -stacked- is twice as tall as all his shoes tailgating each other,this does mildy topple thought.
And i think i smell fresh pop corn.Oops.
Epilogue.
And finally,all it took to take down this Dark Tower, was one humble kernel of corn,a-poppin'.
