Where the hell did I lose the ability to keep up with the flow of time? I think there comes a point where the baggage you accumulate completely grounds you. Or at least slows you to a glacial pace, heavy iron chains dragging the emotional weight anchors behind you (and maliciously mixes your metaphors). And you watch as people and things and events dance around you and pass on by.
Discarding my baggage so I can once again flow and dance and CHANGE is the great work of our time, dear reader.
Well, MY time.
My odd, unchanging bubble of time.
Thursday? You're fucking kidding me.
And for the moment I can only pretend the "Aug" on my calendar is a horrible mistake. How terrible. Really, what a colossal error in time-keeping.
How dare they.
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