My brain won’t stop talking. Or is it my mind? I think there’s a difference. It won’t be a leap of faith to say I know there’s a difference. At one point I was aware of what that difference was. In the points since that point, I have lost interest. I have also lost my train of thought and must focus on nothing for two seconds to remember.
Right. My mind/brain refuses to stop talking. I am physically exhausted. Mentally ready to go to sleep also. But there’s a voice having a conversation with itself as I try to sleep. It is my voice the way I want my voice to be. It has my tone, but the vocabulary is bereft of ‘likes’ and ‘ums’. The voice in my head is John Bercow’s, except I’ve never said ‘Ordahh’. The British House of Commons is the best reality show on tv. I am relieved to report Keeping Up with the Kardashians has been dethroned. Digression upon digression; I’m on a roll.
I’m typing at 2:39am, hoping I’ll lull myself into sleep. Ten words from now I’ll realise this exercise is only stimulating the darned organ.
For my avid readers, a diverse set consisting of me and a few iterations of me, I apologise. I meant for this blog to be a more or less daily affair. James, I believe, is engaged in worthier tasks; my mother also. So it is up to me. I will argue with myself. It’ll be a good old-fashioned argumentative essay. Five points for, and five against, and woe betide anyone who dare stray.
Before I forget about this little fruitless venture(again), I’ll give myself something to ponder right now.
Megxit. My mother loves Diana. She hates the Queen. She’s very invested and wants to hear about these things from me; even though she’s read every single article on the topic available on Instagram.
I shall attempt to perform mediocrely.
Right. My mind/brain refuses to stop talking. I am physically exhausted. Mentally ready to go to sleep also. But there’s a voice having a conversation with itself as I try to sleep. It is my voice the way I want my voice to be. It has my tone, but the vocabulary is bereft of ‘likes’ and ‘ums’. The voice in my head is John Bercow’s, except I’ve never said ‘Ordahh’. The British House of Commons is the best reality show on tv. I am relieved to report Keeping Up with the Kardashians has been dethroned. Digression upon digression; I’m on a roll.
I’m typing at 2:39am, hoping I’ll lull myself into sleep. Ten words from now I’ll realise this exercise is only stimulating the darned organ.
For my avid readers, a diverse set consisting of me and a few iterations of me, I apologise. I meant for this blog to be a more or less daily affair. James, I believe, is engaged in worthier tasks; my mother also. So it is up to me. I will argue with myself. It’ll be a good old-fashioned argumentative essay. Five points for, and five against, and woe betide anyone who dare stray.
Before I forget about this little fruitless venture(again), I’ll give myself something to ponder right now.
Megxit. My mother loves Diana. She hates the Queen. She’s very invested and wants to hear about these things from me; even though she’s read every single article on the topic available on Instagram.
I shall attempt to perform mediocrely.
