My hair smells like lemon and Basil and bay leaves and rosemary and I think I put something else in the bath, but I don't know what.

My Gods. I've been sweeping out all of the negative energy in the world and then I put on Fight Club. Oh fuck me hard.

Hee hee. But everything looks pretty damn beautiful.

It's raining.

Stephen and Alan have been helping me clean. My bathroom is infused with the Energy of the Sun and the rest of the house smells of cedar and sage.

Good thing I'm not planning on getting pregnant any time soon.

A beautiful day.

I just thought of something, watching Fight Club. You know, no matter how self-preservationist you are, your coporeal form will never matter as much to you as it does to the invisible people that live inside your head. For all the airs they put on, for all their posing and affectaion and demands, you're all they've got. You don't look right, sometimes you're the wrong gender, you let them get away with murder...

...because without them, you'd not have /writing/ and that is fuckin unbearable.

But you can't be too self distructive, cause without you, they lose their best chance at life. If they moved into your head, it's cause you and they can work together, one way or another. But they mostly are interested in keeping you alive.

/i/ can deal with this, though I have no talent for self-destruction (save those of the most roundabout, half-assed sorts. like smoking *koff* pipe tobacco).

I think i shall finish sweeping. It's a half-hour till Buffy, which i must needs tape. And Fight Club is ending now. And the Hell-empath wants to blather a bit about the assassin. *rolls eyes*

I love you like a serpent.

<<agé chose>>

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