2004-06-29..4:25 p.m.

I feel like a small feral creature, if small feral animals are on the verge of tears if they can�t find a pen, and have been overcome by an oral fixation of drastic proportions � if it were appropriate to attempt to chew on other peoples elbows at work, believe me I would be doing so � if it were appropriate to lick my ankle bone just to see what it feels like, it would be done � if I could put one of the goldfish in my mouth so that it flops and spins against my teeth like in a jagged cell without fear that a. they would die and b. I would get some nasty fish disease, my cheeks would be full.

Still on high from having seen Zanna for the first time in nearly two years and knackered due to getting up at 4am to see her off. I�m disturbed by both the pigeon with a mohawk, and Snoring Man on Park Bench (an urban still life) on the way to work. Thrilled in just how blade-y my colloar bone is, how fully pert and alive my breasts feel, how long my fingers look; discontented with just how belly I feel, how gritty and unkempt my eyelashes feel, how each individual disk in my back feels like it�s twisting in the opposite direction to the one�s above and below, yet simultaneously like the space in between them appears to be spackled with grape jell-o. My freckles are heavy, my brain like a damp flannel forgotten under a sink.

Frowny-face because I�m hungry and nic-fitting and know that if I were to eat or smoke I would probably throw up from the effort. I�m stupidly happy because, within the pages of The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera uses the word �gubernia�, from which comes the word �gubernatorial�, from which all joy stems because of the long U and the (for me right now) onomatopoeic yearning of the ERN and the soft roundness of the O juxtaposed against the gentle hard edge of the R and all ending with that succinctly conclusionary AL.

This is me on PMS.

And tonight I�m supposed to be working though it�s been shifted (yay!), but will now have to use this time to work on the material for the deadline that I thought was tomorrow but was in fact yesterday (poo.)

The week of world�s colliding ended Saturday with an hour long chat with Michael the Ex on MSN. It was actually really ok, I kind of like him again � and I mean that in an entirely non-romantic sense. He�s not too bad. Still would quite like to maintain our current distance though.

Am reading A Clockwork Orange again. I am in love with Anthony Burgess� use of the English language. It thrills me to the core.

****meep