They deep fried the King...

I've not really been up to much over the past few days. Looking after Matt, who has the plague, working, pottering.

I don't know whether it's a downwards slump after the excitement of the visit, but the whole thing just feels like a dream now, and that in fact I spent those days at my desk, plugging away, doing the same old, same old, as I will do until I die. Nothing ever significantly changes (for the better, anyway).

Well, that was a vacuum of cheerfulness, don't you think? A tad of a pit of black despondancy? A hint of the old saturninity? (Someone prise me out of the thesaurus, please.)

Ach, I don't know.

I'm not suicidal or anything (what's the point?), just depressed.

Have some links, and just let me cry quietly here in the corner for a bit, 'k?

Illusions.

Narratives of the weird. Ye-e-e-e-es.

Box o' one thousand sporks.

Proverbs from Benjamin Franklin's Poor Richard's Almanac