rejectomorph | Clocks Spiraling Out of Control

I wrote an entry for this morning and then Sluggo crashed (despite the cold room) and I didn't want to stay awake until he cooled off enough to make it possible to get back on line and post it. Nevertheless, I didn't wake up until four o'clock in the afternoon, so I have no time to write anything now. Instead, here is this morning's post, saved through the shoddy miracle of Micro$oft's Windows Clipboard:

Subject: Wasted

I can't believe how much time I squandered on the Internet tonight, and didn't even find anything worth linking to. Worse, I have e-mail and stuff I need to catch up on, and writing to be finished. But this was one of those nights when I felt like just going somewhere that is nowhere in particular, and since I can't do that, I wandered around virtually. It's never as much fun as I remember wandering around reality having been. Someday I'll have to visit the real world again, while it's still there. It is still there, isn't it?

It seems deadly still here since the rain stopped. I've not seen any beasts out, other than the more adventurous of my two cats, and if she's seen any, she isn't telling. I wonder what the deer are up to, or even the raccoons. The nights are certainly more interesting when they show up. Ah, they are probably attending parties to which I wasn't invited. I'm here with only the silent twinkle of the stars which dot the now cloudless sky. That, and Sluggo, and the cats, and an endless supply of whatever can be made virtual. And with only this, still I manage to stay up too late.