"Part 1 - 1.5: An apocalyptic log, and a really tough soliloquy"

(This is kind of nice; I have the urge to blog at 1.17 in the morning, and on my MSN conversation is a girl I’ve never met in real life, and we just told each other to go to sleep without actually committing to the act. This is also bad; because I’m not working on what I should be).

A few years ago, I thought I could write anything. Present day doesn’t seem to present this sort of naive confidence, though sometimes I could really do with that excess of unrelenting assurance. In fact, right now really calls for it.

These days, it’s hard to fall through the hole in the parchment.

Long-distance driving turned out to be not as daunting as I thought, but it did present its own set of tiredness.

I’m not entirely used to great-grandma’s passing; my first thought when I arrived in Penang was to pay her a visit. And then the slight revelation hit. It felt like a new pothole that on the road, that’s easy to forget and driven into.

Got on the ferry, the first time in years. The sea still smelt the same, and I’m glad that you can still spot the odd jellyfish or two. What’s different is the ferry’s divider. It was shorter.

(The girl has relented and gone to bed. My media player is playing a Cantonese song I didn’t remember having).

(I suppose I should head to bed now).

Hey, I did something I used to do. Write about nothing.

Maybe tomorrow I could feel like I could write anything again. Maybe it’ll help me get my work done.

Maybe tomorrow.