Having had a head ringing like a bell with a seasonal/pressure/space headache has not been fun for the past few days. For some reason, it seems that my super-ability is to detect storms by having woozy migraines. Yay me. That translated into approximately 100% more hot cocoas, 100% less alcohol, and walking around in a body suit made of all my warm clothes because of THE STORM OF DEATH. You get the idea.
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Seriously, at this point my brain only hears custard union whenever the radio is on.
Editing can be a harsh mistress [sometimes]. I’ve taken to [occasionally] rereading through my old work at irregular intervals. A [sort of] year-in-review [maybe], even if the pieces [usually] aren’t published. Work out where my writing [most of the time] falls down – and these are phrases [that seems] groovy and ‘literary’ at the time, but now appear cluttered and indecisive.
Ah me oh my…
most of the time