The surreal light-passing-over statue of X writing

Last several days have been physically and mentally rough on me. I feel as if I know what the Jealous One is going through.

I don’t want to leave the nice residence where I’ve been staying before my new place is ready. I hate learning about these new places, their many rules + regulations. They love paperwork, they love-adore bureaucracies’ forms. It makes them feel important not impotent, even in this place.

I hate paperwork in Pacific Coast Vancouver. My pseudo-sister, who is working for the provincial government in Toronto, Ontario, the regional capital, seems to have an affinity for it although she glumly muses on what would happen if part of her office just blew up and blew away. Nothing much, she thinks. It’s one of the few areas — the very few areas — she happens to be — like a dead clock stopping at the right time twice in a day.

I grabbed two pizza burritos today from the tray after having one for breakfast. For the first time ever, the entire service menu was disgusting and I passed on it. Processed cube “eggs” and hardened-looking square biscuits and disgusting sausages which I don’t know why they’re so bad, but here they are.

The weather has been dry for two days now, and cool-turning-warmer (except yesterday which was cool hovering around cool) and I’m getting used to the onset of late spring. (inhaled breath) I have to get my shit together.

OH! I finished bracketing/bookmark-noting the Stephen King books. I have the first 200 pages of The Stand, the first 120 pages of The Mist, and the entirety of The Raft short story. That is as large a sample size as I need, and it’s already gone to show to good effect in Snakebreath.

I finished the books around the rainy day and I have been holding them in my dark purple, night purple, nightshade backpack ever since.

Wish me luck on transmuting apparent simplicity into magical realness.

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