back into the bosom of the night

i can't work during the day, i don't have the filter required to sift my thoughts from the commotion around me and i always want to play {as my colleagues all eventually find out}. sitting long into the night i am happiest, tea cooling into the air beside me, ambient drone of 'star of the lid' making the silences' radiate... it's my personal nirvana.

if i had to image an opposite it would be a sweaty packed bookstore turgid with 1st year students, the mania mixed with pheromones, broiling with frustrated 'mature age' students all to ready to show their childishness, catching glimpses of the neuroses of people detached from the heaving, caught in their own spirals, caking on civility so thick that you can hear them grinding their teeth in their sleep even as they stand infront of you.

how do you survive this divide?

for one thing you can attempt to compensate, fill your time there with mind numbing treats, sugar, fat. carbs or salt. dictate what elements of the day that you can, music, favoured tasks, company, perve on the gorgeous people.

or you can do a combination of these things and steal stationary:




i'm sure regular attendees of this blog will recognise a few items in the next image...



this is what all those scooby-doo villans must feel like, the sweet release of being able to spill all of the beans and give up their secret alternate life. as part of my 'revolution' i have released a solid 35% of these back into local circulation {the second image is the close up of the portion i kept}. apart from 2 which were gifts, the vast majority were from the affore mentioned bookshop, it was I all along, the scarlet pimpernel of writing implements. i whisked them away to a grand life in my pencil cases, each a sacred fetish of my quiet rebellion, crystallised autonomy in hidden repose.

and in true fetish form, having to cull down the collection to one pencil case was torture. each has it's own quality that as a rampant aestheticist i cherish, and have application for!

i do use pen{cil} and paper before transferring thought into word at the moment, first draft always needs to be a tactile thing for me, not an ineffeble word document sitting there, accusing me with it's infinite white strip. dear god i hate/love computers.


the sound of rain makes every song sound tiny in comparison


double-plus good evening to you all!

rawr

>:3 ~zip