I hate bright hot still summer afternoons when you have to stay fettered indoors with the incessant drone of the air conditioner and when your brain won't function because it feels like it's turned into marmalade.
I hate the panic that reaches a crescendo in my head every half an hour because i'm not studying and then dissipates into thin air because I can't.
I want to stab someone with my pen.
My recently acquired friend Morg the Orc thinks I represent the figure of urban discontent, at odds with nature as well as society; trying to cure my ills with just the right mix of herbs and technology.
I love Morg but he's likely to get stabbed if he continues along this vein of detached dissection.
"Imagine yourself in nature's soothing embrace" he says.
I know there's a fountain pen with a sharp nib somewhere here...
fourmoredaystogo.
8 comments:
And in five days, it will slip into memory.
:)
Bonne Chance!
Good to see you're writing again. Thought I'd soak up some of your musings before I get no chance for a few months..Best of luck for the last and beyond.
Keep it 'sharp'
:)
urban discontent, eh? we're all discontent with something or the other, at some point or another...aren't we? I've never known someone who's completely content. Contentment is an illusion, I think. And it's transitory. Don't you think?
the pen is mightier than the sword they say. :D cheeesy no?
cheese is YUMMY!
i'm not impressed
anyway, i have learnt not to judge people by their intentions
you judge them by action alone now?that creates compli-ca-shuns, i find.
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