You want cryptic? My pleasure.

There is so much to tell, and so much I can not say. The spring is feverish.

Currently there is a woman cooing at what I hope is her dog, out for a late night once round the courtyard. She is coaxing it in high pitched tones into relieving itself, no doubt for the greater good, otherwise known as her carpet. I love sleeping with the windows open, for the movement of blossom scented air around me, and a cool pillow, but the sounds of a lady and her cockapoo puppy I could do without.

Really, it is harder and harder to write as certain stories unfold in my universe, for until the tales are unravelled, there is too much to lose. Great things are at stake, and in limbo, including my very heart, and my patience and good will, my compassion and rationality are being tested. There are many decisions to be made, but all things in order and in good time.

In the mean time, I have procured art supplies, to keep my fingers busy, books for my thoughts to be pushed aside, and a bicycle and helmet that I might keep this heart pumping and strong while waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

You will know, soon enough, and most of you know something of it already. The stars and planets, they are aligning.

Me, I just work and write jokes. More jokes. Dark jokes. Dirty jokes. I am getting ready to take on the world.

Good night, my dears.



A mind that wanders. And wades.

Sleep does not come easily these days, though mood swings abound, and the wolves they howl all night long. In and out of dreams, not lucid dreaming exactly, but near enough. Not controlled but vividly remembered and relived throughout the day.

The show. The show was good. Saturday night. Restored my faith, though rocked me for the week leading up. The nerves were raw, and my temper flared with frequency, though of late I am thinking that perhaps the coffee intake and not enough water coupled with unpredictable weather patterns and a love life that refuses to be simple may also be spurring the demons on. I have been snappish with workmates from time to time, though try to mostly bite my tongue. But the show. The new joke I wrote, which is what got me all excited in the first place, went over very well, and I told a joke I wrote last year but which I have not told that often, and I nailed it, and tagged it differently, and better.

Where is this all going.

There is certainly more to tell. I try, I try. I fall. I get up. I ride out the hard days, hours, minutes, know that things will not always be thus, in fact may change on a dime. And they do. Change. Yesterday so full of anger and sadness. Took to my bed after work and cried and tossed and turned, today was full of sunshine and I rode my bike to work then all around town, ringing the bell and feeling general good will. The back of my thighs are making the odd under breath complaint, as are my shoulders, but am looking forward to a better sleep.

Two nights ago I dreamed a novel, or a film, or at least the bones of one. It is very dark, and I am certainly mulling it over, brewing it. My roommate is away this weekend and I am going to spend some quiet time writing. Riding bike, drinking decaf, ringing bell, and writing novels. Sounds good. Possibly work some necking in there and call it a great two days off.

Take care of selves, do right things.