Tired
Dead tired tonight. Would like to blog about a lot of things that have in my mind or that have happened to me in the last days (yeah, it's all about me! me! me!) but one of my eyes is already sleeping and the other one is yawning. And my usual inspiration that starts talking late in the evenings, has clearly left the room tonight.
I would pay my weight in gold or diamonds to have a camera the size of a mosquito that I could place anywhere in the world and know what people is doing. Not just people in general, I could care less about Tom and Katie, or Bratt and Angelina, but I'm talking about people I care about; people I care a lot about. What are they up to? Are they maybe blogging right now? Perhaps some are washing dishes, others are having a drink, watching a game, sitting in front of the television watching the daily novela, eating chocolates and breaking their diets, reading e-mails, putting groceries on the shelves, reading a nice book, dreaming, crying, laughing, talking to a wall, rescuing astray dogs, some may be on the phone talking to someone (or maybe no one), driving and singing the songs being played on the radio, downloading porn, at the gym burning some calories, at the office answering the phone, some of them could very easily be having lunch, others may be having breakfast, others are sleeping tight. Perhaps some are thinking about their cool red haired friend lost somewhere in the US. . .
I'm dead tired. . . can't you tell?
I would pay my weight in gold or diamonds to have a camera the size of a mosquito that I could place anywhere in the world and know what people is doing. Not just people in general, I could care less about Tom and Katie, or Bratt and Angelina, but I'm talking about people I care about; people I care a lot about. What are they up to? Are they maybe blogging right now? Perhaps some are washing dishes, others are having a drink, watching a game, sitting in front of the television watching the daily novela, eating chocolates and breaking their diets, reading e-mails, putting groceries on the shelves, reading a nice book, dreaming, crying, laughing, talking to a wall, rescuing astray dogs, some may be on the phone talking to someone (or maybe no one), driving and singing the songs being played on the radio, downloading porn, at the gym burning some calories, at the office answering the phone, some of them could very easily be having lunch, others may be having breakfast, others are sleeping tight. Perhaps some are thinking about their cool red haired friend lost somewhere in the US. . .
I'm dead tired. . . can't you tell?
Jean-Francois was drunk at 10:15 PM
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