Quiet Flitterings

Things have been real quiet lately. It doesn’t seem like anyone’s around anymore. I hope the various boards I am a member of don’t close up for lack of use.

Right now, I feel like I really want to talk with someone, either through a chat program or on the phone. I want to COMMUNICATE with someone and feel like I am getting my point across. I NEED to feel like I am not alone.

Living where I live now, I am far away from anything. It’s not like I can hop in the car and visit my local Waffle House anymore (not that I would, mind, but you know what I mean).

It’s 4:15 AM as I write this, so I am sort of rambling right now. I don’t want to fight anymore about who is right about the Pagan Community. The only thing I’ve learned about the so-called “Pagan Community” is that there is very little “Community” out there. And around here, in the middle of Jesus-land, there is virtually none. I think my wife and I ARE the pagan community.

My mind is flittering about from one thought to another like a butterfly from one flower to another with no chance of settling for very long.

It’s during these quiet times that I hear the ghosts of the past talking. They have a lot to say and I can’t listen fast enough. How refreshing it would be to quiet the voices and stop the insane dribblings of mouths who chatter to satisfy their own morbid sense of self-worth. It is the worst form of mental masturbation I’ve ever witnessed, except at LARP events. This bespeaks the pattern of most blogs (including this one, it would appear).

An ill wind blows across my heart and the yawning pit of blackest despair opens its cavernous maw to accept my twisting form into its belly of doom. My fall is slow, however, not at all quick and merciful. NAY! I fall slowly as to prolong my agony. A truer form of delicious torture was never devised by any interegator of men.

Would that it would stop and I be free of this melancholy state. But alas, no. My torture continues unabated.

I feel wretched.

I saw a Christina Ricci film tonight. We ordered in on Pay-Per-View. It was called Penelope and if you’ve not seen it, do so as soon as possible. It was a good movie, surprisingly. I thought it was going to be horrid, but I was wrong. It featured (in addition to Christina Ricci) James McAvoy, Reese Witherspoon, and some other folk (none of whom I recognized or remember; sorry to those actors, I have a poor memory).

Anyway, it was a good movie about a girl who has a pig snout and ears (she was cursed by a witch (surprise, surprise) to have the pig nose until she found someone who would like her who was her own kind. I can’t explain it in much more depth than that as I am really tired and am about to place my face into my keyboard with such a force as to wake the dead.

Alright. That’s enough for now. If you’ve gotten this far, I salute you. You have more of a stomach for bullshit than anyone I know. If you’ve got a tick, leave me a message telling me how pathetic I am. I like those comments. (That’s sarcasm for those who can’t recognize it for what it is).

Depressingly Yours,
WonderGoon