Lazy grey day.
Inhaling brandy-laced pages, lines and lines of spiky print, full of a morbid happiness at a self-induced death through drink. I'm so happy I get to study these things! Not happy enough, however, it seems to be able to concentrate, nevermind how much affection I feel for Sophie Jansen.
Our garden has been taken over by an angry infestation of rather militant dandelions. Not happy, 'dandelion, dandelion, i love you, i love you', more like the dandelions you find on das boot. But I suppose it is not really sunny enough. The house is quiet, apart from creaks upstairs - Jon getting up after getting in at 9 this morning. I start to think maybe I am getting somewhere, but I can't really tell. I can't tell if I remember anything at all.
Clockwork, quick changespace, and we all fall into before. But hopefully it gets sunnier, and I remember that I love reading, and I love learning things and forget to be lazy and forget the cracked elbow, sullenness personified upstairs and the aching worry and doubt fizzling through.
maybe i'll go to the library tomorrow.

Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending:

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