And the Earth rotates once more

ANOTHER day has come and gone and I'm still online. The bizarre thing about a web presence is that you're never really there. A lot is compromised in persisting an existence in cyberspace.

Time flows forward and backwards and not by jumping through the folds and wrinkles in the fabrics of time and space, but just by slumming in the bean bag waiting for myself to turn into a pumpkin, or a glass slipper.

Having just devoured another movie about a man whose wife was murdered, I can't help but reflect on the motifs of the past week or so. Somethings are on just continuous replay. Same things said and same things done and oddly enough different reasons for why I find myself in similar situations.

Flirting with a nineteen year old? Why the hell not? I was nineteen once, in a long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far away. However now things seem more muddled, like seen through foggy spectacles.

I'm rambling. And the world is turning without me. Again.