!!!I'm so tired
Once again, I have brewed a cup of that terribly fantasawonderterrifficalibulous green tea and so I am now able to proclaim quite
voraciously that I am sleepy
Know this! Hear this, and know it!
Hm? What? I see I shall have to bring you up to speed! Very well then! huh! Can't expect everyone to know that as sleepy as you are, you are merely
sleepy and not
asleep! 'tis the Red Queen's concerted go at slumber.
On the trip to Magious's I received a page that made me fervently wish I had a million dollars. If I had a million dollars, I asked myself, would I really just give it away in a heartbeat to someone I felt needed it more than I? Oh, most certainly, most definitely!
And realising this, I grew quite proud of myself and marched through the streets of my boyhood (for Magious lives in my old neck of the woods) with a high, proud stride, smiling broadly, truly impressed by my own generosity.
Until, that is, I finally made myself realise what a schmuck I am. It's not like I'm making much of an effort to earn money for myself, much less for the people I love. So blah
. I'm a scoundrel.
I asked Magious, "Know of any quick ways to earn lots
Magious was immersed in Morrowind, and I could see he was about to say, "Well you raid the Redoran and Hlaalu vaults and . . ." so I specified, "Like on the internet or something,"
At first, he had nothing. After a while, the best he was able to offer was, "Try making a Hentai site,"
"Oh yeah, didn't you used to get like 40 dollars a month for yours?"
"Hmn, more like 60 twice a month, and I hear that was actually pretty low for a Hentai site,"
I blinked and said, "Wow," It was impressive to be sure, but adequate? I unno.
In any case, it got my imagination going. I'm thinking I may try some kind of snazzy illustrated modern day Marquis de Sade kinna thing. Maybe . . .
Well. 'twould be money for practically nothing really, so why not?
Er. Or I suppose I could hold out for real
work . . .
I wonder if I could get my novel to a state soon where I'd feel confident sending it to a publisher?
Avenues, avenues . . .
I saw this guy the other day at the mall whose skin was sagging off of his entire face, all the way down to nearly his belly button. He had just a kind of little black slit for an eye.
At first I thought it was a beard of some kind, yet it struck me as slightly strange somehow, so I took a casual second glance and saw the truth of the matter.
Naturally, I tried to glaze my eyes over and pass my gaze over, making like I'd just been scanning the scene or something. I felt my face getting pretty warm, and hoped my blushes weren't as apparent as Cryptess
thinks they are.
This was followed by the thought--,"This guy must really
love the mall,"
I had this strange inclination to walk up to him and tell him that he was making the world a better place. Like the elder at the beginning of Brothers Karamazov bowing before Dmitry. And like the elder, I would be a bit mystified by my own actions.
Ack! My green tea is almost gone. *sigh* it goes so quickly.
Speaking of beverages, on my way back to my grandmother's from the car place, when I was almost at my destination, I suddenly remembered that I had actually planned to go to Grossmont Centre (mall) and buy a smoothie.
And realising that, I suddenly wanted a smoothie so fucking
bad. And still do, even now. And not just any smoothie, but one from Jamba Juice, which have conclusively been proven to be the
Oh well . . . perhaps to-morrow, if I remember . . .
One last thing;
It has to be YOUR way. But when it isn't, you panic, but hold your ground. You keep your gun pointed and trigger finger ready, but you'd never really hurt anyone. Though you like being tough, feeling control, you often enjoy blending in and being part of the ordinary human race.
Take the What Pulp Fiction Character Are You? quiz.