girlsdontcry's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

disaffected (or affected?)

I hate it when my powers fail me and the cursor doesn't go at the spot on the screen where I'm looking and I'm expected to, you know, move it there myself with the mouse.

Bastard.

On the upside, I just found a fiver in my bag that I forgot about since Sunday (not as good as finding a tenner in your winter coat after summer, but still, not bad). On the downside, Post Nasal Drip. It's disgusting. And what am I supposed to do -- swallow? Disgusting. Spit? Disgusting (not to mention those delicious hawking noises accompanying any such a move).

The house will be full tonight with guests, not mine of course. The Farmer is back, and The Straightest Gay Man In The World is having his friend, The Doctor, to stay. Apparently, he's really a doctor. Disappointingly, he won't perform home surgery.

From the overflowing "So Stupid It Must Be Real" file... a TV show called Pet Rehab. Sadly, it's not about pets that have spent too long on the coke'n'champers trail in London (Geri Halliwell's pooch could star).

And in other news, something needs to happen because there is no other news. Life stopped, I think. I don't know if something needs to happen or something just needs to click. Or a nudge to get out of this groove? It's like standing in a desert (I've never stood in a desert), except there's a quiet electronic hum, the sound of modern life. Maybe I need to get away from the city, lie in a field, read some Wordsworth. It will never happen, I couldn't find a field. I don't like Wordsworth so much... except this:

Upon Westminster Bridge

Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

I don't know, maybe earth does have something more fair, it's not like Wordsworth would've got around that much, would he?

11:39 a.m. - 2003-08-27

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next

latest entry

about me

archives

notes

DiaryLand

contact

random entry

other diaries:

jennyj
pablo
pollymagoo
buck88
expatrica
discodave
exhaust
zeroreverb7
propeller
trishtastic
rue-madame
starzero
meepful
cruel-irony
heidiann
division-day
heelandlass
purplebanana
captvfirefly
mousemilk
culotte
terminal5
atavist
ottodixless