as the night draws to a close

[aruan]

It's no less than 60 degrees Fahrenheit outside, and I'm wearing long sleeves and bundled in a heavyish coat and still whimpering about being cold. I am a sad excuse for a warmblooded creature.

Don Pablos and Starbucks with the perenially wonderful walkingshadow. Geography played with song titles and artists alive and currently waiting for her court to volley back with an N.

Late-night chat porned with jenn, Jack, Beth, Molly, Pearl-o, and company. Hilarious results have been sent to the appropriate party - strong suspicion that it will be fleshed and taken to the limits of anything approaching good taste (literally). Beware, y'all.

Eeeee! Six more days!

Tomorrow:
-malling it with Miranda bright and early
-Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights at seven, baybee! Rollercoasters and being chased by men with chainsaws, the ultimate theme park turned into the world's largest haunted house and fuck Monday is basically where it's at, yo.

As philosophy goes, I think that's pretty useful.

Also - this is the sort of thing that makes me loathe to ever even so much as consider thinking about writing again. Achingly precise characterization, well-honed exposition, and just. Guh.