March 5th, 2006



There should have been a funny story here, posted about two weeks ago, one of unlikely collusions of events, guardian angels, midgets and, erm, adult toys, but then work was ASS and I temporarily gave up on anything that didn't involve curling up somewhere dark.

I've not posted in ages, I know. Not that I lack things to say. I've got easily half a dozen as of yet unwritten posts I want to drag into the real world sooner or later -- some observations, some personal theory, some math riddle answer, some meditative reflection on a set of pictures.

I've just not had the time/energy, however. Somehow, turning the unorganized, organic ontology of my thoughts into a linear set of words has become damn difficult, which annoys me a lot. Even as I write this, the words, the metaphors to describe the feeling escape me. Gawd. *chews on his own tail* Thoughts and words are terribly different things; even when you 'think in words', you can easily superpose any number of them at once to produce the shell of a given idea, which is a far cry from putting it into linear, orderly English.

Life's not been bad, otherwise. Work has me drained for reasons I might post about in a locked entry. I still ride horses, although... Somehow, I think, since Nice's death, it no longer feels the same. This morning was very nice, though. Rode a new horse, did pretty advanced stuff pretty easily. Exciting and rewarding. I miss bonding with my horses the way I used to, though.

I've not posted about it yet, but perhaps I will just now: I've seen that Narnia movie a good while ago, and it's made a lasting impression on me. Mind, the plot's cumbersome, and the acting has the exact hint of flatness that generally spells out 'kid movie'. The characters are simplistic.

But it's so freaking pretty.

The sights, the snow, the trees and the mountains and the seas. The creatures. The light.

I so badly want a world like that inside me.

What aches is that I'm pretty convinced that, at some point, I did have one. But I've utterly lost the key to the wardrobe. That might be, I think, because no one is ever allowed to see the Childlike Empress twice. Being a grown up sucks.

Oh, and for the records, and as yet another clue that whomever is writing my life has a particularly refined but slightly cruel sense of humor, even as I was walking out of the theater, all shaken by the sudden realization of the extent of my inner void, how much of a dry, barren desert the landscape-inside-me has become, and unable to even remember if I ever, so to speak, gave the Childlike Empress a new name... Exactly then, I saw her, the Childlike Empress. And Fuchur, the Southern Oracle, Atreju, Artax... The TV set inside the bar right next to the theater was, by whatever ungodly coincidence, playing the Neverending Story clip just then.

I swear that this is the absolute truth.

I don't know whether it was a good or a bad thing, though. Probably neither.

Now, off to bed with me. I've got a stupid lot of work tomorrow, and then a business trip to Brussels, Belgium. And then EVEN MORE WORK to catch up with whatever happens while I'm away. Meh.

Also, I want one of those gryphons to cuddle up with, please. Thanks.