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. . . . . entries for 11.1.11 . . . . .
I never do have the time when I need it. I burn it up when I don't, thinking inane things about candles melting to puddles inward to the center, although not in so many words.
If God is (a) real and (b) a DM it seems like he keeps fixing my opposed rolls in my favor, or I don't understand myself and what I do with time. Maybe he is eventually going to pull the rug out from under me utterly and/or force me to slay a red dragon. Because usually I say I fool everyone but myself; but gosh, I seem to fool even myself, lately.
The sky is gray, the snow is lavender. It must be crusted with ice. I wonder how the crackle would feel if I dropped myself in.
[] . . . ees @ 6:58:00 AM
come home?
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