I'll have something better to say next time...

End of the conversation. I'm still dwelling on it. I probably will for a while.

Content to Listen

Finally a conversation. Except that I had nothing to say. I think I like not having anything to say. It's an interesting reverse of my general persona.

She said she's doing fine, but that's what she always used to say. I unquestioningly believe. Even when she's nearing tears. Lame jokes never worked before, but I tried again anyway. Partial successes here and there. But that was less because of me than because of her own perspective. That's how I know she is doing fine.

* * *

She's eating right now. Chewing like a small goat. Small goats chew with their whole mouth, all at once. It's kind of cute, to be honest. I don't like to use that word too often, but it's fitting for the situation.

I'll write more later. Maybe when the conversation is over. Though I'm rather clinging to the hope that the conversation won't end. And here I was thinking I was hopeless.

Coldplay; and How To Hold Ideals

Loud music shall be my new passion.
My walls are to be painted in it.

Note to self: Do not get up early for fruitless treasure hunts. An alternative would be to stay up all night.

Today is a day of fatigue, which is the natural consequence of not sleeping. I must learn to work well with fatigue. Even though I don't work. I sit and stare, which hardly requires rest. Indeed, both sitting and staring encourage sleep.

Such a revelation deserves contemplation, I'm sure.

* * *

Today I have also begun seriously considering going to Europe. At the moment, my plan consists of getting there and walking around. I do not want a car. A donkey, perhaps, but not a car.

I like the idea immensely. Just my donkey and me walking around Europe. I really must do that some time soon. Possibly tomorrow.

I will have to check my schedule.

Middle and End

There is a river in my head and no matter how hard I try to get it out, it remains. It isn't a wide river, nor a very deep river, but a river is a river and they don't belong in heads.

Next to the river is a rust fence made of barbed wire and splintery logs. And a tree. I think the tree is dead because it droops into the water but it doesn't try to get out.

I cannot for the life of me imagine what a river, a fence and a dead tree are doing in my head. But there they are, picturesque as ever before, waiting for a photgrapher from 1965 to take a photo.

They are very patient models and for that I must give them credit.

Beginning

I'm not so quixotic as I was a few hours ago, so you'll have to excuse my lack of appreciation for the moment.

Of course, a mellow mood is nice on occasion.
I should dance to mellow music for as long as it lasts.