Tuesdays...

are sometimes things you wait impatiently for. I don't know why I've become so fond of taking my Tuesday-time and writing nonsense here, but I have. Although, looking back at that sentence, I think I can guess with fair accuracy.

I've been thinking of all sorts of little witticisms that I could write here, but naturally now that my hour has come, all of them have completely drifted out of my mind, not unlike snow falling off of a sloped roof and landing with a vicious KLUMPF! on an unwitting someone's head down below.

...You know, I don't feel crappy at all, but I'm going by a structure here, so I can't change it just because I'm feeling 'creative' all out of order or something equally noxious. When you're doing things in a pattern, it's often most effective to stick to it. Keeps me honest.

So (in a conversational tone of voice)--Tuesdays, Tuesdays, Tuesdays, Tuesdays...
Where to begin? And where to let off? And how to start? And if I keep up this train of thought I'll end up with They Might Be Giants lyrics, so I think I'll stop before I start. (You see what I mean?)

I was thinking a bit ago that there was a bit of amusement to be found in The Two Towers. Are you familiar with the parodies that scamper about being silly which consist of retelling the story, but in a much-abbreviated and much more ridiculous format? The Very Secret Diaries somewhat fall under this category, but are not exactly what I am thinking of. Ah, well. Perhaps linkmonkey may prove edifying, should you be further curious as to whereof I speak. To continue my ever-derailing train of thought, I had a little conversation between Faramir and the hobbits and Gollum and Osgiliath in my head the other day. I shall transcribe it here, possibly as a source of amusement, and possibly so that you may all consider me in very bad taste and whup me a good one the next time you see me.

Here goes nothing:
What follows is a "brief" clipping from the "movie", set after Frodo and his gardener, Samwise, have been "captured" by Captain Faramir and his Band of Merry Men. Contains much parody and lots of very silly "references".
( trimmed for politeness and civility )

Okay, done now. You may beat on me at will next time you see me.
*sigh* I wish I were witty, but all my best lines are borrowed.

And it's terrible because...

I know I'm going to regret that in the morning.

Actually...

what I'm really going to regret is the staying up much too late for the several-th night in a row. It can't be good for me, but sometimes I just don't care. Yes, that's it...I LIVE for the DANGER!!

The ADVENTURE!
The EXCITEMENT!
...

Or perhaps I just live to make silly monkeyfaces at my friends. Yes, I think that's the real answer to the riddle posed by your dear Ms. Anon. She's just there to make monkeyfaces at you.

In other news, I've thought of a brilliant idea that will have to wait until a little bit later. It'll be brilliant, I assure you.

Simply sparkling, glittering, shining with the light of a THOUSAND SUNS~~~!

All right, then. That's quite enough hyperbole for one night.
And you know I only said it so I could use the word 'hyperbole'.

The nebulous back-rooms of my mind.

Ah, sleep. The fixer of many great ills, and bringer of so many others. Would that I could accurately define and outline my bitter love-hate relationship with sleep. Sometimes sleep comes easily, carelessly, dropping me in sometimes very inconvenient patches of my path. Sometimes sleep refuses to be courted and eludes me for long and frustrating hours when I should be resting and regaining expended strength.

Sometimes I wish that I could find an inn and simply rest a night to feel fully restored. Although the nights when I can sleep but a few meagre hours and awaken with remarkable...remarkable...lucidity are not infrequent, it is to be admitted that I often need at least one day in which I do nothing but sleep to make up for it. Strangely I have not managed to have one of those days at my technical home in quite a long while. I think it may be that I always find two to four fleas on my limbs in the morning. That would probably account for the inability to sleep properly in my own bed. How...vexing.

Ah, well. I think I shall try to sleep for another hour or two before rising fully.
See you in a while.

Incidentally...

I have no regrets. A slight feeling of dim embarrassment, but no regrets. This pleases me.

Speaking too quickly can result in a rash.

Ooo...now I regret it.
Good morning.