Well, s'bin a bit since my last blog, on account of being in nowheresville, wherein nothing doesn't even happen, for that were, heideggerianly speaking, something. But not unenjoyable for that, it must be said. We all need rest sometimes. No, ofc, mc action. Resigning myself thereto, there's nothing to be done about it here. Overall it's been a good christmas, i should say. Don't really have anything of interest to say here. OK, i guess one train of thought, that would and perhaps should have been left on the cutting room floor, the would if i had anything else to say or presently do, the should because it doesn't present me in a good light in several ways, is that- and I do so hate to be such a bore - i'm wondering whether not to shift my Besetzung of libido from mc to she whom the hebrews call bet. For it's probable that i am, as one says, "in there" ( on condition, of course, that she never reads this) i.e. it's easier. The only problem is her quietness when combinedwith my quietness doesn't, like two negatives, make a loudness, but a pianissssssssssiiiiiiimmmmmooooo, that we have the acridity of nothing to say to each other in, as the phrase goes, meatspace. But which is my soulmate? with whom would I spent eternity in metaspace ( but which i of course mean heaven, or the secular equivalent thereof). Of course, the thing is fairly moot - at me's pace, both I and they will be acrid fossils before I make so bold as to wipe a bit of schmutz off one of the fine frauenpetticoaten. I'm sure there are several other servicable anagrams, but fuck it.