After all of the whiffs have been smelt...

in my new life that is eight days old, i don't do anything except exercise and read books and write annals in my journals and practice musical instruments for my secret project and pass through crowds of people unscathed and quietly, and sometimes i even watch a little television like a normal person for god's sake.

one of my terribler secrets is that i turned twenty-eight last week, if you believe in birthdays. i considered it less symbolic because it meant that i was 10,228 days old, which isnt a number to eat cake about.

plus, i don't know if i like being twenty-eight. everyone else who has ever done glorious things, did their glorious things by the time they were twenty-seven, so i think that means that i am not destined for glorious things. what's even worse is that i can't even think of what those glorious things would have been.

i hope that if i do glorious things, that they won't really involve turbines. that would be a dumb way to be glorious.

one of the other things that i am doing in my new life that is eight days old is i am preparing healthy & thoughtful meals. yesterday, i had an orange roughy fillet with penne pasta and some zesty mmarinara and even some steamed broccoli, but i have a lot to learn because today my new apartment of three days has a godawful dead fish smell, and so that's why i bought the glade plugins today. or whatever they are.

they plug into an outlet and release vapors of extracts. this means that there is no open flame and i cannot make a big mistake unless i try very very hard.

i also brought along my little felt bag of shiny rocks. although i'm not sure if you can call them "rocks" if they are shiny. when i think of "rocks", i think jagged and rough and dull. except when someone is referring to a diamond. as in "you have a beautiful rock on your finger which is where you keep all of the love." but i don't like referring to diamonds as "rocks".

digression is a bitch.

i have arranged my "polished stones" (shall i say) on top of my new bookshelf. i keep all of my books in the drawer of the bedside table, though, and not on the bookshelf. instead, i keep my binders of compact discs on the bookshelf. i have five big and fat binders worth of compact discs. i own too many compact discs, it is true. i have explained this as an uncontrollable addiction to music, in conjunction with an urge to buy things when i am bored, or lonely, or sad, or happy, or angry, or awake. and i think this explains rather well why i have five huge binders full of compact discs.

anyway, here is a picture of my carefully arranged polished stones.