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Sometimes the most inspired thing I can do is be quiet.
The most profound sound is a sigh.
Some say it's "OM". Same difference.
This morning a friend made me laugh by suggesting orgasmic panting where I let the IT hold its breath. I've put the idea in my correction of chapter 52. Because you see an adrenaline surge also increases the rate of breathing, it can't be otherwise the way we're wired sympathetically. Technically, I knew it, but sometimes I write for the effect and not the sense. So it's great when someone recalls me to reality. Thanks, HB!
Does anyone even know what I'm talking about here? A glog is like extended self-speak, thinking to yourself but knowing you have an audience.
So it feels impolite to pretend no-one's there, contrived.
Yet the essence of the glog is the internal rambling looking for a way to get out.
I've got the winter sell-out feeling. The leaves are leaving, and I wish I could too. But modern life doesn't allow for natural cycles.
I wonder if that will change? I could start a petition to abolish, or at least abandon time, the concept as we know it. Yawn.
Maybe tomorrow. Hmm.
Stiil, I'm lucky to be alive. Good morning world, I'm here. Yay!
