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About

This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

Come on Boy, don't be such a baby

I've been listening to specific songs on repeat, again. Today, the flavour seems to be The Twilight Singers, and old favourite. The track is 'Number 9'. I can't get it out of my head. Although, to be fair, the best way I suppose would be to listen to something else. But I can't. Listening to what I actually want to listen to when I want to, is something akin to having a nice cool drink of water on a very hot day. It's just that good.

And even though I am supposed to be working (at my real job), I seem to find it necessary to update (twice in the same day). It just comes on whenever it wants to. If I were smart, I'd be updating regularly instead of so few and far in between. It comes from the feeling that I have nothing interesting to say (as opposed to right now, right??) and my laziness to pack up the modem every day after work and set it up at home.

I'm reading Joe Hill's Heart Shaped Box and loving it. Fantastic writer. It's a scary story and I'm giving myself the creeps by reading it when I live alone in the freaking Arctic. I should be smarter (but I'm not).

It's -26 today with the windchill. My truck is broken again and I don't want to eat the leftovers of the Hamburger Helper crap I made for dinner last night, tonight.

I also don't know if I'll be on a plane tomorrow morning, to go to a little town above Hall Beach (check your maps, people) for work-related junk, and probably won't know until tonight. I guess that means I ought to pack a bag. But don't they know that I need to bring my laptop, camera, books, dvds and various things ALONG with my clothing and work gear? Guess not. I kind of need more than a few hours notice for these things.

I'm also exhausted. I was fine this morning but since 11 or so, I feel like I've been run over by a truck and I just want to head straight for bed when I leave the office. No fooling around with food for dinner, no CSI reruns on dvd, no lazy hot bath...none of that. I just want the bliss of unconsciousness for at least 9 hours (yeah right). I'll be lucky if I get 5. Insomnia is still my closest friend.

Hrmm...see how much junk I can type out if given the right motivation at the right time?
Later, sweet beauties....
G.

Number 9 - The Twilight Singers

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