illin' out

London seems to always inspire certain parts of my personality to rise to the forefront

I indulge my homebody tendencies; become a hermit

the weather - cold, wet, sunless - and the exchange rate both conspire to keep me indoors and to myself
but it's alright i suppose..
it has to get warm sometime... right?
and introspective periods are always good for the soul =p or so i've heard

*bleh*

doesn't help that i'm practically forced into anti-social behavior becoz im ill.. seriously, very, ill. Though I'm hoping it's only a 24hr bug...

London really isn't good for me =p

Suspended somewhere between dull pain and insensibility, in a torpor of self-negligence, there is nothing left for me to do but engage in a slow drift of association. The minutes accumulating like snow blanking the streets, cool and detached from the unfolding drama of the world; its slow progress at odds with my wish for a faster pace. The moments - before, now and in the future - as tangible as the flakes gathering. As soon as I remember, attempt to recall with vividity, it melts away to a new scene or thought. Too many to hold on to... too tainted with plural perceptions to be sure of. What really happened?
One could drown in all the irrelevance while trying to find that one connection of import.

and... back to reality, albeit dulled with a haze of pain =p and few intermissions of clarity.
someone"s got to do the bills n watnot ;)
surviving
..holding on...
for those bright summer days an sultry nights

summer better b awesome.