PS

More...

Oh my, how dramatical of me. Note the odd adverbal emphasis of the adjective objective coalescing into a sentence that would make some people's skin crawl, as if that metaphoric simile is even possible. I may have even mislabeled some of the literary turns of phrases in this mockery of language and self, but that is the fun of writing, always trying something new to get a point across... even if no one really understands it beyond the voices in my head.

I leave that for posterity (and you), to ponder.

I woke feeling shitty and after drinking 20 ounces of water and about the same of gatorade and leaving a really large poo soft in the poo repository (fecal material in soft-serve ice cream texture rising above the water line, if you really must know - as some do or we all poo, after all - and just think how my own body blog has been neglected even more than this body I loosely call mine has, really mucking it up now, aren't we? {speaking for the voices in my head, which get a rare second reference within the same writing session as if they really exist outside of a contextual form... only my inner hair dresser knows for sure, ya know?) and a cleansing shower and a cooling down, I feel much better now.

It is time to make the softball, however, so this writing mood must wait (with the same hope, naturally.

Cuz there is always hope (I hope) :)

Lest we forget.

So don't forget, m'ok? )

honest love,
me :)


Everything's better with hope :)