and so on

... and the sloth has continued. 
It's because it's cold. 
I hibernate in the cold. 

Last night singing in the shower "papercuts make me blue, especially when inflicted by manilla folders, who knew, beige could be so cruel" for no good reason at all but that it popped into my head to the tune of 'Paris by Night' which is in the stage version of Victor Victoria which I was sort of watching because I was avoiding the football.

And the rest of this working week and next bodes ill and I didn't win the house in that RSL raffley thingy which is sad, as it seemed quite a nice house and I was imagining my inside cats being allowed outside on the 1.2 hectares of land the house was sitting on and watching them come to terms with grass, but it is not to be.
I don't normally obsess about winning lotto and houses in raffley thingies, it is just a side affect (or is it effect?) of my being unhappy at work and wishing I were retired. 

Though actually I think what I wish for is my own home and part-time work.  Some work would be nice.  Gets one out of the house.

A necessary thing for a relatively solitary person like myself.  I shall end up like that lady in Sydney who was dead for eight years on the floor of her flat and nobody noticed :)

Except possibly also eaten by cats.

(paraphrasing Bridget Jones' old and eaten by alsations)

(affect or effect - I should look that up and get it tattooed to my forearm - I never remember)
... to be continued

ah ... life

Life and it's many splendid thingies.  Long weekend just past (show holiday) and much sloth and spending.  (though not really long for me cause I worked Saturday).  Which is to say I spent a silly amount of money on three books and then spent the rest of my weekend reading.  It was lovely.  The latest Colin Cottrell book and another young readers fantasy one to do with Japan and samari, which I bought because the blurb reminded me a little of the Plum Rain Scroll - the dude has got to have read it.  Lovely set of books those.

... to be continued

Playing - In progress - maybe work on tonight?

She was rather reluctantly and drunkenly cleaning, when she fell under the bed. Laying on her belly reaching with broom, to sweep the junk out from the gloom. The dim and twilight gloom under the bed in her room.

As she reached further there was a dark mist and the floor fell away from underneath. Under the floor, under the bed. Falling and falling feet over head.

And the blackness had voices and the blackness had eyes, that screamed and raged and whistled and sighed. From the gloom in her room. Under the floor. Under the bed. Falling she was feet over head.

...

and then maybe end with soemthing along the lines of

and the kind of the underbed screamed it's your fault that all this junk is lying about and he marched her too the top of the heap of the junk in the gloom under the bed in her room, its time for you to face the consequence, on your head be it or be it on your head and with that he tossed her off the heap and now she is dead.

and then a moralisticee something or other about
so that is why you should always clean your room
never just shove everything under your bed
you don't know what is lurking in the dark and gloom
you just might end up dead

COLOUR

Not quite sure about this background colour yet.

Draft and unfinished

This is the Night Email crossing your portal
From distant relatives, close friends, wedding gossip and chortles
Spewing lolls wtfs and omg though an electronic maze
Of servers and wires 24/7 days
I cursorily ponder past contained things missing
From this modern form of communicating,
like apostrophes, grammar and perhaps a brain
Before sentences were started and put in train
Where once a first draft and critical eye
Were cast o’er letter before sealed, sent and espied
Instead are now drunkenly texted from where’er able
Be it home, work, parks, cars or toilet cubicles


I am out of practice d'oh - it seemed like a good idea at the time - perhaps I shall have a go at this tomorrow? though probably not :D

i wanted to try and work in something about at least with emails you don't have to worry if somebody has washed their hands before sending a letter/missive - but I am just not in the zone.

Draft - Needs work

I lie down
Curled in bean bag
Arm cuddled round

There is no room for you
You sit in the chair
Companionably place your hand on my hair

It is nearly night
We do not break the quiet
To speak would invite spite

Together too long
Communication only leads to boredom

But when silence rules
Irritation with repetition ebbs
Letting bodies relax into familiar grooves
And habits long established
Of comfort and care
Like curling up close by your chair
While you rest your hand on my hair

Draft Unnamed - interrupted at work

my mind is full of 'i wantz' today
sub-consciously screaming
selfish and demanding
iwantz iwantz iwantZ!

i swallow them down
these tantrum like urges
i swallow them down and they boil and coil
they roll in my belly like worms, like snakes
they roll in my belly until I could hurl
and shake
and scream
they roll and they worm their way into me
my blood stream
my dark dreams

to be continued - gotta do some work now :)

edit 5:57 pm: oh mannnn - i am darned if i can feel where i was going with this now - i've completely lost the groove. oh well, i guess i'll just have to come back to this one.