July 15, 2010

Morning Time..

Not doing much work but the grey cells are ticking away.
Glasgow triology
Brava -
about how I love Spain, sexual confusion that becomes a desire to reproduce and be safe.

Anti-depressants work - four aeroplanes 1 unconfident 8 year old, one mine diva, one almost three golden boy, a bampot of a sister, a my mother - no anxiety. Contraceptives work no bleeding no agony, no ovulation misery. Being a bit strict myself, wouldn't let myself take a double bed into my wee office/den/bedroom. I felt wrong in a double bed, like a girl in her mothers heels. Today I will move them! All the swimming, pushing buggies and suit cases up hills in the heat has deepened a need for regular physical activity. My shoulders look strong, my lower thighs look damn good, the steroids are helping the lungs a lot.

Cece still hasn't married that fool, good lass but has put all she was left into her career. I don't have a career at the moment but I do have a history and a reoccurring lust for her on off fiancée. He's a good lad, needs to talk likes motorbikes, getting old enough to want to settle and breed. Our pal wouldn't mind, not now.

Neither or off will make any calls, he might talk, I might tell Virtual, bless her but I need MORE! I will seep into his muscle memory he will say goodbye as naturally and as unconsciously as changing gear, then I start talking to the bike like it's got a pulse, till it pulls him back here and we let our overworked depleted frontal lobes take a back seat for a while.

I do want a career, I have to swallow the pride about Twitter!

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