morphing into an owl person

Yes, owl person as in night active (I know, you wouldn’t have guessed).

My prime time starts at nine thirty (-ish) p.m. Then I start working. The ideas start flowing. My head overflows. The ashtray fills itself up. No idea how it does that. Then it, too, overflows. As does the pot in which I am, once again, cooking my lentils. I forget about them and then my stove is ruined. Until I clean it up. Then I cook more lentils.

Sometimes my computer decides it doesn’t like me anymore (I’m not all too sure it ever liked me at all) and makes me re-do everything I’ve done until that point. Which isn’t that bad, because usually what happens after that is way better than what I started with in the first place – see post coming up after this one – the one in which I make the connection between my eighth grade Russian teacher and a chair in a university hallway. With an ever-so-small excursion into the theory and practice of being a violist.

Until then, observe my laundry beckoning.

look at that. laundry.

As is the floor. Still a gi-normous ashtray and deposit for everything beer-related, it stands a miniscule chance of being cleaned and polished thoroughly until my next visitors set foot on it.

the floor's kind of in bad shape

Though they probably won’t set foot on this particular spot anyway, but hey, it’s nice to know it exists, right?

And then we have the omnipresent beer bottles. Last seen here… and under my desk. Thirty-fold.

oh and willyatake a look at that

And on the window sill. The last remnants of the launch party on Friday that actually wasn’t much of a launch party – more of the-first-guests-came-at-ten-and-the-last-guests-came-at-two-and-everyone-left-at-four-thirty-except-one-person-with-whom-I-celebrated-Berlin-and-life-the-next-morning—–type.

And-overall-it-was-just-being-drunk-and-discussing-modern-art-and-eating-cigarette-filters-for-the-sheer-sake-of-it-because-someone-suggested-doing-it.

Oh, forget that last part. Or don’t. One does not need to do what others suggest that one do. But sometimes one does exactly that, for exactly that reason. And that’s the whole story.

Look at that sunlight. None of that where I am now.

so's the window sill

Stay tuned for a whack-o rant tomorrow or the day after or maybe even the day after that. Depends on how much of a perfectionist I turn out to be concerning blog rants and for what length of time I manage to stay sober. (KARNEVAL)

Now excuse me while I make some coffee and attempt to pack and clean up and write up another post on the German blog. Good morning!

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