I decided I would do a little writing again in my other blog--the one I keep other than this one, that is. Not that I would abandon this one; only that I tend to release certain things a little more freely in that other one, since I don't advertise its presence here and I doubt that anyone would actually connect it to me. I write there in a ( Read more... )

It's gross to say it, but I sure am tired of the post-cold mucus production I'm experiencing. It feels like my head does nothing but produce mucus, day in, day out. Clearing my throat, blowing my nose, not being able to hear right. I'm drinking lots of water, flushing with the neti pot daily and taking decongestants. My sinuses insist on making ( Read more... )

Tonight I glimpsed the glow of the moon behind the mountain, and so stayed to watch it rise ( Read more... )

It is a blue moon.

I am completely overwhelmed.

I managed to drag my sorry sick ass into work this morning. Actually, it's not quite as bad as it sounds. I'm still pretty run down, but last night around eight o'clock I started to feel much better than I had in a couple of days. I figured I better get at least one day of work in this week, since I'm off Thursday and Friday. Also, since the ( Read more... )

i'm officially into day 4 of cold, with no end in sight, despite all efforts to rest, drink plenty of fluids, flush my nose with the neti pot, and plug myself full of zinc and vitamin c. it sure must be nice to have a strong immune system--i can only imagine what that must be like.

sorry, i become morose and self-pitying when sick.

When I practice my violin, my kitties get wild and tear around the apartment. I think the screeching is too much for them to bear.

And who the hell puts minor chords into Joy to the World?

I know that Pei Wei must have a limit to the number of fortunes in their cookies, but what are the odds of receiving the same fortune twice in a month? And it's not as though I eat there every day--maybe once a week, if that. I can't tell if it's uncanny, or just plain silly ( Read more... )

A note about Neal Stephenson--something that I didn't realize. He writes his novels out in longhand. On paper, with a pen. All, like, 1000 pages or so of each fucking one.

The man is a nut.

Happy birthday, desultorie. Best wishes to you on this day.