It's depressing and refreshing

to know that no (-t many) one will read this. It's like blogging to myself. Which is cool, I'm closest to myself after all.

So I said I'd be previewing my useless scribbles, and I should get on that. So here goes.

And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea-

What are all these kissings worth

If thou kiss not me?

What's that you say? This isn't my work? You're.. right. It's Percy Bysshe Shelley. Perhaps I'm a little shy? Oh, fuck it.

Sleep deprived
and sleep obsessed

sleep itself

I must confess

is like sweet love

such tenderness.

There. Happy? Just as unfinished as I warned you it would be.

First Post

Ever spend a lot of time sitting around in random public places waiting for things?
Restaurants, airports, park benches, hostels and hotels, bus and train stations, museums, coffee shops, they're all the same.
I'm not one of those cool people who watch folks and play games in my head with them, so I'm usually absorbed in some sort of book or surfing the net (if these random places have free internet) or too tired to do anything but listen to music and feel like my eyeballs have been carved out with an ice cream scoop. But occasionally I'll be waiting and floating and will suddenly be seized by an urge to scribble my thoughts down.
So today, (since I gave up romance novels for Lent and am too lazy to pick up anything else atm) I figured I might as well start doing something with the numerous pieces of scribbled-upon papers I have.

Here we are. Or maybe not.

As Hollerado says "Oh I am walking on the sea, I've got a sinking feeling, but I am walking on the sea."