So, for the past two hours, I’ve been perusing the entries of my journal (I’ve been writing in it since 2004) and found several entries that would give character to this blog. My little duckling amongst the cyber pond of swans.

Therefore, I give you “those old Chicago days”…

Excerpt A33.1

I am swallowed in tedium. It’s only 9pm. It feels like 2am. 2am and three glasses of red wine later. I managed to watch the complete third and fourth seasons of SATC.

I’m surrounded by soft plushy down, sinking deeper into the white bedding with every breath I take. I drift to a place deep within my imagination. Images and echoes engulf me.

Excerpt B21.3

I’m sitting here (the big yellow couch) sipping thick black coffee and digesting a buttery croissant. All the while watching ma petit chou chou complete her third puzzle. She stares up at me with those large blue eyes, in awe of her third accomplishment. I am so proud. I promised her frozen yogurt and an excursion to the local park, once the rain subsides. Gloomy Chicago weather.

Excerpt from Journal 4 MES Stories from the Withered

[...I could feel the warm beads slither down my back, ridding me of any delusion or irrational thought. Water cleansing and purifying my existence. I succumb to mortality. the wicked sense of compassion for my own. I am beginning to live, and live freely. ]

[…an open winged crane amidst her first flight. soar, but to plummet upon sinkable threat. I wanted to scoop up the remnants of my life, tie them with an alabaster ribbon and set sail to a new world.]

[Perhaps an exotic island, that so truly by definition, is faultless in it’s own right. A haven for warranted souls, like myself.]