2004-01-27 - 4:54 p.m.
Hallo,
I am still alive. I am even doing well, one could say. I don't know why I keep insisting on being startled by my own inadequacy in diaryland updating. I have meant to sign on and update so strongly, that I thought I had. So soonish, I'll dig up my holidays, and recant the whirlwind of the Yule Storm. My social status is unchanged, my job is unchanged, and my ability to find time for self-improvement is still non-existant. I have been reading much more diary land, and will comment more on that, when I am feeling less hurried and more poetic. Life is good, but I am fragmented twixt the states of my being. One being the present, which consumes me as apophis. The other being the past, which slays me, just as it lays slain. I miss the past, and hope to pull it back into my future at some point. I mourn till then, and dream of distant cities filled with loved ones.
I am also a bit sick of "nice" people. I find that they reserve the spot between your shoulder blades, where you can't reach, to stick their blades into you. "Mean" people generally plant it somewhere you can pull it out easily.
I am trying to rework my perceptions of human interaction to chemical experiments, rather than the plying of bladed instruments.
Take care all.
