More random thoughts.

My computer clock says two twenty seven am, and I believed it until I noticed it is only ten past twelve. Still late, yet it's a Friday night and all is still and quiet here. So I decided to have a chat with my blog again. It listens but doesn't reply. Probably would tell me not to be so boring, if it could.
Actually that is me telling myself that I am boring. It is a weird word, always has been - boring.
"You can come and stay if you like, but you'll be bored." - nah, I don't get bored. Still don't really understand the expression. Some say it is another word for depression, or being down. I'd prefer to go with that. Maybe it is being tired, weary, ennui, but bored is the silliest word in the dictionary.
Is it what drove me to write this? Or is there some other driving force behind my sudden impulse to put into words the unputtable? I could talk to someone on the net, but I just feel the need to write, solitary, on my own. I don't have much to say as I feel I am in some kind of limbo-land, or twilight zone or somewhere. I think there are photos missing off my computer, but maybe it is just that I can't find them. How disorganised is that?
The neighbourhood is quiet tonight. The clock ticks behind me - tick - tock - tick - tock... and I don't know why I am not playing music. I do actually. It is because I am liking the stillness while it is here. Got my keyboard working again, the Yamaha. It jst needed a new plug. Back to playing the same old tunes. Still have to finish the postcards, for this project I am doing. It could be fun, maybe I will get into it properly tomorrow. Ordered another book - Body of a Dancer, which I can't wait to read. I hate finishing a good book. There is a sadness involved, a goodbye to be said. Being invited into someone else's head is a privilege. One day I would like to invite others into mine, properly. Maybe as some kind of return gift. They can feel free to like me or dislike me, it doesn't matter. The important thing is that one likes oneself. Of course, one can't always like everything about oneself, and that is ok too. As long as liking is in the majority, it's cool. I think I am done for now. The clock is still ticking, it's still quiet outside, so I am going to read more of Star of the Sea.
It's a brilliant book and I am reading it slowly but surely.
I cut a lot of wood for the winter today, chopped more hedge, the prickly one out on the public pavement, which is my responsibility to keep trimmed, and omg it really hurts to get stabbed by one of those strong spikes. I mean really hurts.  I flopped on the bed afterwards and slept for three hours, and woke up disorientated. I know if I give up smoking I will have lots more energy. Winter could be cold or mild this year, but I can already feel myself shivering in anticipation.
Spending money on books is my 'vice' I suppose. Those and cigarettes. A little wine sometimes, which helps oil the wheels. And I really, really want to do another 'chapter' of dancing in the air. I have kind of left it all hanging in the air, so to speak, and it is bugging me.

Good night blog. I am signing off now, and hope you sleep well, as ridiculous as that sounds. I have a need to say goodnight and good morning for some reason I will never know. Mystery sometimes is good thing, and I certainly aren't going to try analyzing that one. I have a fear that being over-analytical can lead to annihilation.