What's wrong with a little love, my people? What's wrong with the warm, house insulation-like arms clasping you to amorphous bosom before suction cup-shaped, spongy wetness is slathered over your brow? Don't answer that.
What I meant to say is--doesn't it go without saying that we all want to do things that make us happy? And doesn't it also therefore go without saying that a person--such as myself--would be happy to see others happy as well, so long as that happiness does not infringe upon the happiness of others?
Why wouldn't that go without saying? Why would you or anyone else think there are nefarious or cruel motives attached to my actions, especially my most passive and neutral? I don't like to give advice, but here's a tip--if you can't figure out my angle, why don't you simply assume I don't have one?
There. I'm really not talking to anyone in particular and I don't think this applies to most of you but I had to get that off my chest.
What a wasted day was Wednesday. It's the sort of do-nothing day where I'm constantly thinking about all the different projects I want to work on but never actually get to work on that day. I blame it, really, on being forced to wake up at 2:30pm and a peculiarly troubled sleep before that. There was a jack-hammer or machine gun or something loud and fart-like going on outside at one point and at the same time the phone rang--really loud. The sounds together were like the language of some kind of disgusting and malevolent robot. I was so deeply asleep that I didn't truly wake but rather digested the noise in my dream stomach. So then I had cement-block head all day.
Gotta be outta here at 11am, like most Thursdays. So I guess I'd better get some sleep, huh?
Let's see . . . I think, after I wake up, I'll go settle down at a Starbucks and finish reading Murder of Angels. And then I'll write. And yes, I will do both. And Morrowind can be damned to hell. Hell, I say! Heeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllllllllll!!!