Why I dont miss my iphone anymore

1) I can throw my nokia against the wall.
2) I charge it once in 5 days
3) I dont panic when I think I've lost it ( 4 times a week)
5) Its fallen down and cracked to 3 pieces around twice a week thus far, and I've always managed to put it back
6) It fell into water, and survived (me, nokias and water have a strange history)
7) I am always pleasantly surprised when I check my mail after 6 hour intervals these days. It never feels like I never get any new mail because I always read my mail as soon as I received it.
8) Same for FB.
9) It has a flashlight - for all those who are scared of the dark, this is invaluable!
10) I can name profiles again - something I always loved doing!!

Welcome to my world, spirit and spunk!

one loss, two loss, big loss, small loss

I am in the middle of some (sigh) drafting, but I had to stop to ask:

Does a big loss make the loss of a smaller loss more bearable such that nothing that is a small loss can ever compare to the loss of a big loss and hence all small losses are little reminders of how lucky you are, or does the big loss associated with the er, big loss, always taint the losses of the small loss, such that all the small losses are nothing but little extensions and supplements of the big loss and all big losses are just uppped versions?
It is dark and there is snow swirling around outside the window. And I have reams to read before I sleep.
If theres anyone here, do you have an answer?

(Except you P, go away, I hate you if you're on hibernation)

A rainy day

means Mozart and violin concertos.
and listening to the fan slicing the air as the music rises and falls.
and the lamp throwing delicate shadows across the bed

My wall is truly beautiful, I realise. Its very... representative, and I am suddenly overcome by the urge to hug all of it. Ugly Mural and all.

All you need is love and RAM

Usually, before I begin to write, I stop. My hand freezes over the shift key, my left index finger poised over the left hand side of the keyboard. itching towards an 'I'. I smile. In the split second before my finger hits whatever key it does, a muddle of thoughts and sights and smells regarding my latest offering whiz through my head. Its like a stream of technicolour.

Will the gods truly punish me for writing? Am I really eight, stuck and tired and weepy and not really wanting to push monsters away anymore? Do I want a wicked sword? Do vegetables really grow beaks and become fearsome crane like creatures?

*dreams dreams dreams*

Why can't I be normal and dream of boys, and other such? Or maybe even cars? Or creation? Or paint...ooh! paintball. Now that would be a nice dream. Why doesn't inspiration visit me through dreams? Why is it weird stuff?

*vegetable cranes - seriously, i need help right?*

I re-read rick riordan today. (p.s. let me tell you, in the last two years, I have done a who-o-ole lot of reading. ) If you ever get to the part about river styx, you'll understand.

So whats up.

Amidst the Flowers a Jug of Wine

Amidst the flowers a jug of wine,
I pour alone lacking companionship.
So raising the cup I invite the Moon,
Then turn to my shadow which makes three of us.
Because the Moon does not know how to drink,
My shadow merely follows the movement of my body.
The moon has brought the shadow to keep me company a while,
The practice of mirth should keep pace with spring.
I start a song and the moon begins to reel,
I rise and dance and the shadow moves grotesquely.
While I'm still conscious let's rejoice with one another,
After I'm drunk let each one go his way.
Let us bind ourselves for ever for passionless journeyings.
Let us swear to meet again far in the Milky Way.

Li Po

Universe, are you listening?

Clearly the answer is more shoes. Or retail therapy of some kind.

I am not this jaded awfully gloom person. (except when i contemplate pigeon droppings - but thats a different story, a poochi story) I shall change forthwith and live my life surrounded by sunshine, lots of food, the maxing of cards, the collecting of mugs and double negatives.

Ah, the life.