waver

I am so rusty my bones creak, not from lack of material, life has been full of it, just the whole thought circle is getting so repetitive, each time I put fingers to keyboard, I am afraid of disappearing in a cloud of rhetoric and self inficted boredom, and survival baby, survival, ice pick to snow mountain, wind whistling, imminent frostbite, survival is what its all about. and finger foods. mostly survival. Also, im not super sure what finger foods are. Or mulberry bushes. I would google it now, but that would deprive the world of this piece of scintillating literature, takes away somewhat to hold forth Google defines finger foods as... Or maybe thats exactly what I should do, reinvent rhetoric, reinvent myself, phoenix from um, wildly average ashes. And it dawns on me, as it has a few years back, that religion would be very useful here, to inject a hearty dose of okay move on and do the good work of worthy usefulness. The days I want to desperately believe in something are now replaced with the days I want to desperately disbelieve in everything, which basically means theres a lot of good work to be done, but im so comfy, leave me alone. The evolution of my days from a series of extraordinary events to a series of unfortunate noises have been tediously catalogued, I feel like I have discharged this responsibility with courage, ableness and a rare grace. Also, today was a good day.