Random thoughts falling between random and thought, and then random again.
Rocketing between boredom and depression, lost in a landscape of fractured ambitions, or maybe it’s Fresno.
Books on shelves cramped and musty. Waiting to be read. Wanting to feel the fresh air between their pages.
Sane people can no longer play bridge because no matter what cards they have they bid no trump.
Weebles do not subscribe to the domino theory.