My day ended better than it started, with making art and then dinner, tea, late night conversations that I thrive on. It's rare to find other souls with whom I can angst, ponder, and laugh, and getting to do that is one of those things that keeps me alive. We know we can't figure out the meaning to life, the universe, and everything, but there's enough moments of clarity and sudden illumination that come from sorting through all the cultural clutter and intellectual junk that's piled up over our last two decades to make the process seem worthwhile.
And I'm back at the place of employment, plotting out future creative directions, maintaining a steady intake of caffeine, learning the hard way that finely ground Yemeni coffee does not work in the coffeepot, but that's probably just as well, because our favorite-would-be-funny-if-people-weren't-dying-rogue-leader thinks that Bin Laden's come out of his mancave to drug the Nescafe.
Those crazy kids and their Nescafe and bath salts and Four Loko and whatnot. Serious Delirium.