prosaic

as i write about so very few things, and don't feel like rambling on politics at the moment, i'll revert to the other. i'm in the trough [or approaching it, and if so, soon i hope] of the self-pity cycle, wave, pattern, whatever. and most everyone knows it and it feels stupid to even bring up, at least for that fact. [surely partly because it is making me feel stupid for feeling stupid..] and though i sometimes can't imagine any change occurring, ever, i'm fully aware of the cycle and i'm not afraid of comfort and happiness and love [and i don't mean them to seem so interconnected, they aren't always so in my head] returning, for i'm quite sure they will. i'm just impatient. i should be used to it, as i'm quite slow, my life will often be so as well. nevertheless i'm always discouraged at how time speeds by with seemingly no change which, in turn, stretches it out like warm silly putty, or chewed gum. bad similes annoy me. [bad metaphors too.]

as i just finished telling someone, whenever i am no longer eating thanksgiving dinner with my family, i'm not having turkey. i mean, it's an okay bird, as far as taste goes, but i'm not crazy about it. i'd much rather have some curry or chinese food or just a big bowl of soup. i have no problem giving thanks, it's a good idea [though whittling it down to one day seems a bit unthankful], i just don't see why gorging yourself with foods, let alone everyday foods like turkey and potatoes, equals thanks. i meant to do something meaningful, catch up on sleep, and get ahead on a few approaching assignments. i did none of the above. i did however have some messed up dreams, none of which i really remember, and none of which i'd bore you with, even though i have in the past.

it is funny, i think, that when you think talking will do no good, that you find not talking can be just as worthless.

"the police at the port of entry say,
'you're number fourteen thousand for today'.." -ani [w.g.]