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I...Shit Magnet. There was a distant entry likening the situation at the time to the Fall Of The House Of Usher. Never without a flair for the pseudo-dramatic, says I. I've got to get a refund on those Karma Points. For instance, I was trying to access the character map for the "trademark" symbol...and it won't fire up. I believe my PC's got the creeping crud. In medicine, that's when your asshole migrates up to your neck and chokes you to death. Not really, but pretty a propos. The PC's sick. Photoshop... daid. British Ike jacket (with all of my C1ash and obscure aviation badges... missing. volvo, DOA. Also MIA, a tape I made last night before I crashed. As the cherry on the parfait... almost two hours in the dentist chair. At one point, I asked the doc if he'd seen Beijing yet. I got duppies. Had 'em for a while. Sometimes, they lay off, things reach an equilibrium... then, the siege. Some call it luck, or the lack of. It's lacking. If Luck is a Lady, then she must be offended. A major offense: this stagnation. Cold, rainy, wintery... the adjectives of the day. Driving my lethargy indoors, doing the carbon copy of what every day this past winter has turned out to be. Marathon ass-sitting. A chain of cigarettes. A waste of time and potential energy. I believe I'm the only one that feels it. The thin line between comfort and confinement. It must attract negative energy like moth to flame. |
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