It is the innate capability. The fundamental working of things; the intrinsic nature of behaviour. It’s all about attitude. Beliefs. The things you tell yourself.

Optimism.

Pardon me; I’m never that good at the limning of things, if you can call that limning. I try to make things comprehensible, though by right it is very comprehensible to me and the hand in which I hold my pen (or type the words), but at the end of it, it boils down to the known and undeniable fact that being a writer and a teller of things, it is whether the message is understood or not.

(So if you’re reading this, scratching your head and deciding that a bottle of chicken stock and all of its so advertised power to enhance the thought should come in handy right now, take a sit and relax. I’m not worth the understanding).

Today was a day where everything seemed to go wrong. I wouldn’t call it a Disastrous day, or Catastrophic, or even Bad at that manner; but it was pretty obvious that Lady Fortune had decided to mar my day by pouring a bottle of Very Slippery Detergent Sludge down my alley.

I don’t have the energy to relate every wrong thing that happened today, but lets just say that it includes a lot of malfunctioning devices, a fair few of “What the fuck are you doing?”, a considerable lot of “Sometimes I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing…”, the usual “You just had to PISS. ME. OFF! *flails arms angrily in aggravation*”, a lot of cash gone and the most despairing, most dejecting of them all; the Sigh. A lot of Sighs. The ones you get when you’re doing nothing right even if you wish it right. Condescending, and riddled the sort of belittling pity.

Argh.

To cap it off, I burned some toast. Which the dog didn’t even want to eat. So I thought it’d make a good Frisbee of sorts, and decidedly spun it out of the garden. I watch it disappear into the darkness, across the road where the light couldn’t reach, and judging by the way the toast spun towards the left, I think it landed on the neighbour’s roof.

I just hope that birds like toast in the morning.

Happy Birthday, Mich. I hope the flowers are fine.

Goodnight People.