Um, sure...What to say? What can I possibly say that hasn't already been said? How about: "river pink fallen tomorrow chromatograph necessary". I suspect many people will disagree with this statement but I stand by my words, or at the very least, next to them.
I think it's becoming blatantly apparent that I have nothing to say at this particular moment of my seemingly never-ending existence. The problem is that my mind, with its vast limitations, is very near to neuronal-synaptic capacity; it's just able to organize the rest of me to function day to day. Is this due to a hectic life? By the standards of the society I live in, I'm not especially busy; by the standards of me, I'm busier than I'd like to be (mainly due to work). And my current brain-ruminations, which are somewhat distracting, aren't things I'd be comfortable putting onto Effulgent13. Hence the blank.
So, instead, here is The Dream by Salvador Dali:
3 comments:
congratulations dear effulgent .. page 400 is indeed an achievement .. we should celebrate with toasties and hot choccie perhaps?? i myself am halfway through the first novel i have read in years .. not quite the level of achievement of karamazov .. but exciting just the same !!
Just take it one page at a time, bro, you'll get there.
While I cannot condone the absence of intellectual discourse pertaining to my Karamazov masterpiece, I take fathomable comfort in the awareness of your continued persistence.
However, I reiterate my earlier promise to conduct visitations upon you and drive you to the edge of sanity, if you abandon this exalted literary assignation.
Incoporeal hugs & kisses,
F.D.
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