Pie-Eating Princess #2

Uniball 207. Wonderful plebian instrument.

Comments

A productivity hack: the doctrine of water, or "a few minutes every day".

The plant care paradigm is something that hit-home to me. We hear so much of exercise, "just a few minutes a day", and we never get started, or we started for a few days or two weeks, and then its over, but yet some of us practice this "few minutes a day" in other respects. Drinking macchiato(few minutes a day) watching local news(few minutes a day) brushing teeth, manscaping(few minutes a day) OR yet as the example resonated with me was plant care. Various years, various iterations of my yard and property, I've had plant areas, small gardens, and such. During the growing season, a spot of water now and then adds up to sometimes a healthy specimen of plant: what if we applied the same care paradigm to our exercise? Does it, to you, like me, make it seem more feasible to achieve some negligible exercise results? a Wisteria bonsai, presumably mature. For exercise, they'll say 30 minutes. 20 minutes. Or just fifteen minutes. what if it was less? A stretch

Halloween film kerfluffle 2022.

Underneath the shelter where the snowflakes fall like rain... Seed your love and reap the girlwind. So. Its Halloween season again, and genius cable executives book the actual Halloween films, while some yet book Friday the 13th. I caught a brief glimpse of the Last House remake the other day, with Monica Potter being just a shade too sexy to play a mum, but I watched anyway, and the man was like, "I'm easy." And I said, they obviously worked on this script a while. It's like rubbing Ivermectin on your private parts, below the beltline. Anyway, its been a tradition that I would happen upon Friday the 13th sometime on Oct 31, but its already been on, on the 27th, and now I wonder. I was finding it on AMC, but they did it early this year, like a run-up to the season. I hope they dont have a Walking Dead thing planned, cause that's just a soap opera with some top notch zombie stuff thrown in. George said it was a soap opera, and I new it, it was more about nast

Post Supermoon Journal.

Dignity and solemnity, hath a life, dignity and solemnity, myself of the sub-sunrise false-dawn quietude running a string trimmer, pondering doing a comedy routine, sacrificing my mind to varying threads, threads of varying length and substance. Thanks in part to caffeine and deranged thinking, I yield up to strange dreams for a few days, and digestive kerfluffle thanks to eating a candy bar, which does me no good, though I love it so. In the same way one might have a binge of something, a great glut, I had Cruellers, a cookie dough and strawberry dessert and some other, to wit, the candy bar. It took unto me a bit of malaise to have weeks in treats in only a few days time. I was due in no part to meditate on malaise, not a malaise on my own making, but a hard instant resolve to never have that again, aversion and avoidance then, in the face of moderation. Strange dreams opposite the Aug 13 Supermoon, on the 14th, early morning, and though I could peg caffeine as the instrument, ther

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