(no subject)

My heart is in my throat. Work is either boring or incredibly adrenalinated and stressful (or possibly both at once). I'm looking forward to vacation at the end of the month, even though I just got back from Amsterdam. Is it really any better anywhere else? I'm not convinced. But still...

Goddamn computers. I will be teaching my little class a few more times before the gig is up. It would be cool if they sent me to Sydney, but it's a long shot. Meanwhile, everything else is awful. Maybe I'll go be an auto mechanic.

If I were to leave, what would I leave for? There's nothing behind all this but a vague and pressing desire to get out of this freaking cubicle.

____

It's not as bad as this sounds. It's only bad when I'm here. I've gained the ability to completely forget everything about work as soon as I leave; this is a big improvement.

(no subject)

Cent Mille Milliards de Poèmes: Ten sonnets, each with syntactically interchangeable corresponding lines in the same rhyme scheme.

Frère je te comprends si parfois tu débloques
tu me stupéfies plus que tous les ventriloques