sidenote

truth is, whenever i stop and think about it, it all seems very simple.
very clear.
very natural.
very much... if X then Y, if A then B. get up, get up, get up and live so long as you have will. and when that's expended, lie down. if Z then XX.

but then i look up from my notebook
and look around me
and can't understand how the soo very easy formulas have led to this.

if tired then sleep.
if hungry then eat.
first work, then achieve.
take a million steps, then you're there.
close your eyes, then kiss.
kiss then kiss again
kiss again then kiss again and again (and again).
then open your eyes, and smile.
if raining then take a walk.
if sad then listen to radiohead.
if happy then jump up and down in concentric circles around your girlfriend or coffee table or pet dog singing Hey Jealousy by the Gin Blossoms like a 12 year old girl because we're all 12 year old girls sometimes because 12 year old girls are absolutely wonderful we should all be soo lucky to be a 12 year old girl from time to time.

but then why are we all hungry, awake at 2:43am, without any desire or anticipation to face tomorrow and my mouse is out of batteries i'm tempted to hurl it across the room. if X then wtf.
if Y then fml. <--- i love the language of our generation. screw you that's not high-literature. i think fml is like, totally, omg the most expressive thing to be invented since msn messenger thought-up the emoticon.

in final news:
it is 2:44am.
we are all tired.
my face does feel like plastic.
my hands are sweaty, my mouse is out of batteries
i can't be bothered dealing with tomorrow so i'm just sitting around trying to will it away.

someone needs to work out what's up with how we apply the formulas.
for the record i believe in the simplicity of life.
i believe in it because children embody it.
i believe there is some magnificent truth to children. something deeply and profoundly human. more human than you and i. more truthful because they're some few years closer to being angels and fairies.
the elderly are the same. by then perhaps they've remembered what it was like to be angels and fairies. full circle. path integrals. recapitulation in the tonal key.

this weekend i think i'll listen to Brahms and Future Islands and get emotional and spit on my car because i hate it and fantasize about not being allergic to cats so i could have one purr softly sleeping on my white ikea desk having cat-dreams at 2:50am while i sat around and digested international law and overdue email responses and to-do lists with more do than to and looking at my bed apprehensively because shut-eye means wednesday and wednesday means mayhem.

wha
ev
a

this has been a coffee-shop-worthy ramble courtesy of your favourite internet stranger apennyfortheoldguy.

(in final news i'm going to make a cardboard sign to wear around my neck for the rest of my life that reads:

WILL DANCE FOR SMOOCHIES.

no?

i think very yes.