eyes are heavy and boys are wacky- wishing sleep weren't a dream. only if only ice cream were a diet pill that left you feeling light hearted and healthy. a friend asked today if i were still writing and all i could think is that i'm still typing- productivity measured by the number of clicks a second is not the world i chose but it is where i live and it gets the job done. I wouldn't have picked up a pen just now but since i'm plugged in i figured i could tune in and put the thoughts down- if only they were actually worth thinking then i might be thinking something ground breaking and life changing instead of just some rhythmic mess that falls off my fingertips. oh well- it is what it is and i am who i am- it doesn't really matter what i think as long as my heart still beats and my feet can find the beat in the bass line and feel the pounding from the drum. overrun and fun isn't in the plan. at best it's annoyance and obstinance in a pint sized package that charms with a smile that drips from the eyes- hypnotize and hypothesize about what trouble next is coming.