The itch to write has been strong, but technology has been temperamental lately, so that I cannot sign into my own account for days on end [what happened to owner's rights] and it arbitarily ables and disables, as if teasing my need to spit out words again.

I found a good reading page today, rather, I found a friend again. The connection was one I would never have expected, and if I hadn't chased after my bit of ice cream I wouldn't have stayed to watch a project video and surprise suprise, you know her too? Six degrees of seperation indeed. I love how shah rukh khan and I are only what, three degrees apart. All I need to do is to get mayboo's housemate to introduce us. Okay so what if I need to actually get to know mayboo's housemate's father first. sama sama, as they say in malay.

She writes well, and for the first time I feel like the gap that's been left by a certain other capricious dreamer when she whisked her thoughts away one day oh-so-suddenly, has been filled at last. Banging rambles -they are rather violently formed, those sentences clauses phrases lexicons morphemes phomes- and they are lively. Lastly, and probabaly most importantly she bangs something out very few days and that is extremely important to a word whore like I. I feast on words, I scrutinise them, I strip them naked and stare hungrily at the potential pleasure. Very much lust, this one. I suppose desire and pleasure are quite symnomous with sex. Now I feel like a word pimp. Ugly picture. But so much passion...

Maybe it's just tonight. I'm depraved, having been denied entry into my dashboard. that my bastard children may be birthed.