breaking things

fucking curiosity... the death toll for cats is rising exponentially.

Having been grumpy for days, I find myself in a state of near apoplectic rage. Too bad my dishes are all pyrex, as I could do with hurling a few of them into the ally. And then going for a long long run... starting running so blindly angry that I end up sprinting a good 5 km and collapsing, lungs heaving, stomach churning-exhausted.

I feel like King Knut... raging against the inevitable. And, like the shore, there will be eventual calm once the rushing tides abate... I just don't know when that will happen. My patience is shot, (did I ever posess any to begin with?) and we all know that I do so well when life spirals out of my control...

[timothy to claire: "here's a phrase that describes you: 'I'm not a control freak... things just go better when you do it my way.'"]

This too shall pass. Thanks mum. I just don't enjoy the process. Always prefered the destination to the journey.

Rather than being in the shelter of a big top, sometimes it seems like this tightrope I am walking is really a power line and it's monsoon season.

Metaphors all over the place tonight... general lack of coherence.

Tempering the rage: Justine and I talking last night at "all hours," solving all the problems of the moment-specifically le francais... a lot of red wine should do the trick! And the satisfaction of nailing the Bach to the wall tonight.

Not quite running, but for now, it's all I've got.