Times Like This, I Wish I Were Tired

Well, crap. It’s 1:17 in the morning, just now, and I don’t think I could close my eyes for more than a blink if I tried. Which is just going to make waking up tomorrow for work that much more difficult.

Dang.

I’m trying to learn not to say things in anger. Holding my piece until I can withhold unfair oomph (Yeah, it’s a word) to a statement that would, otherwise, sound pretty effing cranky. Freaking lava. But I’m not going to say anything at the moment on it. If I mention it later at all, it will be with much filtration.

(Of course, this is how we go about making espresso, a stronger, bitterer [also a word] liquid that at a fraction of the volume achieves the same effect. Let’s think about that for a second.)

Regardless. In another minute, I’m posting a new piece that isn’t exactly slam, or anything else. It rhymes, which is only the second time in a long time that I’ve written anything of the kind. Still, it deserves its own entry here. So mote it be, people.

More to follow. Like, now.