(I'm going crazy now)

mind iteration + people's pretend
hoard treasure chest dreams
static entities incorrectly
hoard chest idealists

mind iteration + pretend
forming
static entities correct
formless

mind iteration is
softer, please
static entities
softer, thanks

mind iteration
oh-oh
static... always
sure-sure
___

Incomplete

Passport = pwned

I can see the world in 2 - 6 weeks.

Travelling

Norway has now been moved from several thousand miles away to a mere thought in my head. This was accomplished by learning that I won't be going to Norway any time soon.

Apparently, my parents' method of telling me I couldn't go involves never really saying anything about it. They never really said anything about it for a few months, so I went ahead and took that as a sign to mean I could go. When you consider that I bring up a trip to Norway almost every day, that wasn't too big a thing to assume.

The trip was planned for next month. What a convenient time to be informed that I won't be going after all. I'll still be going to France, of course, but guess who doesn't live in France?

(The answer is "Katerina." Another valid anser would be "Kaja." Bonus points if you guessed them both).

Any autobiography that I choose to write will no doubt contain long passages expressing the emotional turmoil I have suffered because of my trip to Norway that never happened. That IS a lie, because I haven't suffered any emotional turmoil, but if I don't add something like that the book will never be published.

So there's your update on my travels of Europe.
__________
I have just been informed that four emails currently reside in my inbox. A clever little pop-up window that doesn't annoy me in the least came from the bottom of the screen and told me. It was under the impression that I was interested in my emails. Such a misconception...

There is a bit of satisfaction in closing out of those clever little pop-ups. There is also a bit of satisfaction in the knowledge that I have absolutely no intention of checking those emails for many weeks. In fact, the only thing I intend to do with those emails is blatantly ignore them day after day after day until their numbers exceed what is generally considered a healthy number of unread emails. That's my small way of fighting the system.

Anne On A Mouse

That will be my pen name.

Nobody will know who I am.

Ghosts

Found the cause of the door. Or the potential cause.
She keeps denying it, but my suspicion grows by the second.
(Blaming me is rather escapist, she proclaims. Don't make me laugh, she says;
her voice is curt now.)
Her denial is escapist, methinks.
(She laughs at me. She loves to laugh at me, even when she tells me not to make
her laugh.)

There is a photograph hanging on the wall next to the door.
It was a gift we never wanted.
A blue sky with trees for picture-frames.
Two birds are in the sky, a crow and a hawk.
(I want to be the hawk, she says. You can be the crow, she says.)
We should have thrown the photo away as soon as we got it.

(It looks like it's older than us, she says; I nod and try not to look at her.
It looks like it's haunting the wall there, she says; I don't say anything.)
___
Chapter six.

Punctuation

there was a courtyard in one of the older apartments square in concept it turned into an oval over time proving the

inadequecies of modern aestetics of all the windows only one hadnt broken it was made of blown glass as we stood there the

wind chose to pick up the edges of my pinstripe jacket my skirt she says learned to fly the wind lost no time though some

of the open windows did hesitate before submitting we didnt want them to submit she whispers it s true we had hoped the

perserverance of broken windows and rusty hinges would outlast the wind we always chose the underdogs

. , , . ' . . , . ( , . ) , . ( ' , . ) ' : . .
___
This would be the third chapter.

Melody

It was so morose we could have lost a tear or two. But we don't cry, do we?

(No, she answers, we don't).
But we were tempted, weren't we?
(She's laughing. I think that means yes.)
So the song was about a sea and the ship upon it. And the sailors said they were sorry, they didn't mean to hurt anyone. But they sank anyway.
No, no. Don't cry, dear. We don't cry, remember?
(Quivering lips. She's too much compassion.)
And it was dark, too. Only the bass could recall its song. So the others all paused and we listened to the lonely fingers of the bass.
That was the saddest part of the song. Because nobody else noticed that the voice was still there.
Nobody thought dry sobs were the same as songs.
It was so morose we could have lost a tear or two. But we don't cry, do we?
(No, she answers, we don't.)
___
I might try to write a book.

Restless

Pent up energy is begging to leave. I have no use for it and it has no use for me. Together we cancel each other out.

Cool stuff.

http://www.sunbelt-software.com/stu/iraq/sandstorm.htm (Neat pictures of a sandstorm)

http://www.fincher.org/Misc/Pennies/ (Fascinating penny constructions)

http://www.naturenet.net/links/java/connect4.htm (Try beating the computer on this one)

http://www.picturesonwalls.com/ (Cool art)

http://www.zefrank.com/dtoy_vs_byokal/ (Makes interesting designs)

http://www.memecentral.com/Level3.htm (Good reading)

http://www.asa100.com/ (An amazing photographer. I highly suggest you watch the opening video)

Candid Textbook

Today I found my unintentional history. I didn't mean to write it. I didn't even know I was writing it.

Roughly four months are covered, focusing mostly on relationships. At first it appeared a little shallow, but after a while I warmed up to it. It isn't shallow, it just isn't complete.

There are no poems in it at all. Books that aren't read like poetry should have poetry in them. But it isn't finished. I'll give it some time to make poetry.

Apparently nothing really changed until about 2 weeks ago. And it get's so obscure at that point that I have no idea what changed. I definately need to start working on clarity. From what I can gather, contact with some people seems to have decreased whilst contact with some others increased dramatically. This fact holds mixed emotions. I'll try to cling to the better of them.
___
If I can ever find my unintentional history again, I'll write an update.

" " Hobbies

Back to the quiet music.
Subtle portraits on noisy walls.

Tired again. If I didn't know any better, I'd suspect I was a partier. Late nights are my new hobby. Late mornings, unfortunately, are not a part of the package here.
___
Nothing worth writing has been written in two days. Writer's block is my muse's hobby. Always has been. But I think trading muses is against the rules.
___
On a side note, my schedule was empty so I would have gone to Europe but apparently it's also against the rules to go anywhere without a passport. I tried to pretend I didn't already know that.
___
These rules are really getting to me.