Blue veins

I’ve been listening to ‘Blue lips’ by Regina Spektor on repeat. Blue lips, blue veins, blue the color of our planet from far far away.

I don’t have anything to say. I read, I stare out the window, I read some more. I go home and do the same thing. My energy levels are manic: insomnia or narcolepsy, take your pick.

Ennui. Standing on the edge of the universe while it spins on the head of a pin. Angel choruses fill the pink pearl sky and dive into the rolling golden sea. My imagination invents impossibilities to escape the mundanity of daily life. The next few short stories I want to write are dark suspense, thus my prospective reading list includes The Golem, Dracula, Frankenstein, and The Phantom of the Opera. I don’t even know if I am going to write them ‘soon’, but better to read now and let the ideas germinate.

In other words, the days are progressing at their usual 60-seconds-to-a-minute pace and normality reigns supreme. (Until, that is, the Queen of Hearts returns from holiday.) Tomorrow is 4th of July. Americans, read the Declaration of Independence, and while you’re at it, the Consitution. Be good citizens. Meanwhile, we American ex-pats will see how we can stir up Scottish independence celebrate.

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