Woke up tonight with a perfectly written short story in my head. And it was a good one, too. I'll post it after I come home from work. My brain does that sometimes - does something brain-like from time to time. Usually, it's just a random mess that seems awesome up until I start brushing my teeth, but this one passed the dog-walk test. 'Course, I slept for three hours after lunch yesterday and for nine hours tonight, so I can barely move or stretch. But I feel better, rested. Minor toothache, which I am actively choosing to ignore. The tooth seems fine, I don't know what the fuck it's complaining about. I have other matters to attend to, financially, spiritually and ergonomically. Monday morn, people. Come on. March forth. The week isn't going to screw itself.



.... okay, maybe not after work, because I'm always too tired. but eventually :D


... (a month later). It's just not happening, I am just too tired to remember to write. I barely remember to read.

In short, it's about this guy in some village and he falls and glass gets stuck in his upper spine and he knows if it gets pulled out he'll instantly die, so he goes around his village (like a Sicilian town type a thing), looking for this nagging old bitch of his wife. She's terrible, but he kind of wishes to watch her face as he dies, kind of sticking it to her. He meets all sorts of people whom he tells this, some continue to follow him around. In the end, the woman hears he's looking for her and that he has a glass shard stuck in his neck and he begins to tell her he wants to see her one more time, but she just shuts him up, rolling her eyes, 'You're such an impossible whiner' and dismissively pulls out the shard.