Tuesday, February 27, 2007

I'm down to just regular beans

I've been working too much


It's too noisy


She called me because that's what people do when they are out of answers but I was all out of magic. My charms are worn from use and the mighty powers that they once possessed have left merely a musky odor where once there was an almighty scent.

Yeah, I don't know what that means either. It might make sense if you're smoking something.

I hate it when the magic runs out and by magic I mean luck and a modicum of skill.

I try to catch all them all but sometimes there is just too much dish. I'll warn that my recommended disk catching ability is about to be exceeded but still they come. Sometimes, they still all get caught but other times there are other results.

I'll just look at the broken dishes and wonder why so many were decided to be thrown.

Too many. You chose too many. My hands are that of a mere mortal and my magic is finite.

Success could have been had if things weren't so hurried. I wonder what the hurry is.

I always wonder what the hurry is. I wonder why people like to race to death.

I'm sauntering my way there.


The plant was dying slowly and there wasn't anything I could do about; we both knew that the end would come but I watered it anyway.


Every business I've ever been in there has always come a time when someone says that I'm in the wrong business.

I have a great propensity for picking the wrong job, I guess. I'm habitually misemployed.


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