Stuff!

[rejectomorph]

Ah, another night frittered away on teh Intraweb. That's the problem with these cool nights. Sluggo can run for hours on end without crashing, and I sit here shivering, my fingers growing numb, as I immerse myself in the endless wrack of web sites washing up on the monitor. It's a crazy old hoarder's attic, is what it is! It's virtual piles of stuff stacked to a virtual ceiling, cramming every corner of an ever expanding virtual space, trash mixed indiscriminately with treasure--- just one huge, chaotic, perhaps even chthonic, collection of cultural detritus, and all of it threatening to topple down on my brain at any moment! I'm going mad! Mad, I tell you!

Yes, I think I'd better go outside for some darkness, before it gets chased away by the sunrise.