Psychic Space

I suppose I should be responsible for my computer maintenance and start my upgrade this evening, if my disc drive will in fact run. If it will not, I will have to hope I can reverse course, come back online, download W7, or hope my Amazon Toshiba is still healthy and that kimmy, my miniature jaguar, did not damage its charger. In terms of hardware I'm primitive, and software less so but still illiterate, and really just want to work, but suppose I will need to lose 48 hours, perhaps more. I do not know. If I delay a little longer it may be until after Midnight Lace, but would prefer the above.

I have seen them both before, and that I am not on for extrapolation now does not mean something would not occur to me later, like why putting sexually high status blonds in danger seems a kind of trace residue from the dark side of Hellenistic culture. I have my own caste resentment of blondes, whether organic or bottle, and have been entertaining an essay about that for awhile, because I got into a snipe with a contributing editor who was in fact a blond, with a kidney transplant concern, and though it has no actual impact on my career (what career?) I can take my impolitic aspects and make some hay.

I am a misogamist at least some of the time. Masturbation is no longer pleasurable, and vibrators probably not much of an option, too much arthritis, and who knows what else, but I have procrastinated long enough. Perhaps this will be less excruciating than I believe. What does peace feel like? As if any fool would be brave enough to interact with me over that question.