03.24.04

Pardon me while I indulge in my wicked pleasure; writing. Ah, you say, wicked? Yep. To write with no object but the pleasure of bounding from thought to thought. For me, that's fun. I'm fully indulging in guilty pleasures this week. I've got Headbanger's Ball on MTV2. I've been wallowing in freshly-brewed coffee and trips outside whenever I want. I've stayed in my bathrobe all day long. My laundry is done and mostly put away. It boggles the mind.

I just looked out to the backyard. There's a tulip whose colour is just starting to show through the tightly wrapped bud. The red of it startles my eyes. Everything else in the garden is either grey, brown or young green. Next season's colour riot seems so far away. The one bud says thats it's sooner than I think.

A flock of geese, heading north, flew over just now. Their klaxoning honks sound like a thundering herd of Mack trucks.

I've turned off the TV. All I hear now is Nadine, purring at my feet. Jeez. I need to switch out the fan. Every so often something goes *grunch* as if it's thinking about something.

I've been reading. Switching from book to book like a gold-diggin' dame rolling in money. I'm reading The Golden Ratio, The Butlerian Jihad, Molly Zero, some porn, Sex, Death and Other Distractions and Introducing Mathematics. Why that last one? I will find the damn key that unlocks mathematics for me. It's like looking through a dirty contact lens. I can see just enough to annoy me that I can't see more.

Writing. My terrible vice.

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