The Idiotic Presence of Those Around Me

The morning after seeing ProjeKct One, London, England.

It is damn fine to own a new, justifiably beautiful journal - an anti-inhibitor of writing, a motivational force. I am pulled by the magnetism of hundreds of beckoning blank pages whose pull is only slightly sated by each cursory penstroke. The leather is aesthetic but cloying in a sense, telling me that surface beauty has an attraction all its own. Mayhap it is a means to an end, a doorway - a portal and that is all - a jolting telephone jangle which is the misty melancholy of life’s maudlin moments. Or something like that. Yup. Now I shall shower.

Brynn: I write about my overwrought, embarrassing emotions, coupled with the idiotic presence of those around me… & Bob scribes of … leather. Sometimes I believe that you love me, muffin. :)