I don’t know what this recent roller coaster is about, however, weird dreams about motorcycles and Goliath frogs, and turning around on a trip because of a storm is fairly evident. Well, duh.
There is a frog in my throat, I have been wanting, but unable physically, to ride my motorcycle, and yes, there is a storm brewing. Much like the evolution of Stilton Cheese, this contains much debate and conjecture.
There is so much on my mind, and no place to put it. I want to allow a flow here, but it is predominately about someone else, and I just can't do that at the moment. I wanted this blog to be more journal-like, and now, that someone is being a little creepy-stalky, I refuse to open the tin and allow a mozzarella to be born when I am waiting on an asiago.
I haven't been wanting to sleep at night. That seems to be the time when I can actually focus on the things that are important to me. I can put on a movie without argument. I don't have to worry about the phone ringing, or the glass-like ting of a text coming through. Everyone with good sense or in Asia is asleep. There is nothing going on on Facebook so I don't get distracted. This is my normal. For some, being up half the night is a preposterous thought. I thrive on it. My best, and favorite, sleeping hours are between 0700 and 1200, and again between 1500 and 1800. I am awake and functional the rest of the time. Of late, I have been using sleep to escape. I am in a funk of magnificent proportions, don't like the day to day of my life, and spend entirely too much time alone, and rarely just "shoot the shit' with anyone. Not that that is a bad thing, but my choices of things to do are somewhat limited. So I sit here, watching entirely too much TV, and I stew in a Castelo Blanco of unfathomable goat-yness. Acrid, musty, and vastly less favorable than a Santarem, which is best served fresh.
There is a frog in my throat, I have been wanting, but unable physically, to ride my motorcycle, and yes, there is a storm brewing. Much like the evolution of Stilton Cheese, this contains much debate and conjecture.
There is so much on my mind, and no place to put it. I want to allow a flow here, but it is predominately about someone else, and I just can't do that at the moment. I wanted this blog to be more journal-like, and now, that someone is being a little creepy-stalky, I refuse to open the tin and allow a mozzarella to be born when I am waiting on an asiago.
I haven't been wanting to sleep at night. That seems to be the time when I can actually focus on the things that are important to me. I can put on a movie without argument. I don't have to worry about the phone ringing, or the glass-like ting of a text coming through. Everyone with good sense or in Asia is asleep. There is nothing going on on Facebook so I don't get distracted. This is my normal. For some, being up half the night is a preposterous thought. I thrive on it. My best, and favorite, sleeping hours are between 0700 and 1200, and again between 1500 and 1800. I am awake and functional the rest of the time. Of late, I have been using sleep to escape. I am in a funk of magnificent proportions, don't like the day to day of my life, and spend entirely too much time alone, and rarely just "shoot the shit' with anyone. Not that that is a bad thing, but my choices of things to do are somewhat limited. So I sit here, watching entirely too much TV, and I stew in a Castelo Blanco of unfathomable goat-yness. Acrid, musty, and vastly less favorable than a Santarem, which is best served fresh.
No comments:
Post a Comment