"Work is love made visible. And if you cannot work
with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should
leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms
of those who work with joy." ~ Kahlil Gibran

I have this friggin pimple..or something on my face - pissing me the heck off because it's one of those that hurt - dammit.
When you're in pain it's harder to concentrate.

I was up really early, then somehow fell back into the sweet serenity of sleep and dreamt about people trying to kill me. Really. Is that fcked or what? The weirdest thing was the dream about a design. What I aspire to - the ultimate design, the design that will revolutionize the world. Ok...not quite, but that design was groovy shit. I've dreamt about music I've never heard, words I've never written, people I've never seen, and can't help wonder if they are real...parallel universes? Brr. There we get all complex.

I wake up and get dropped back splat into the reality that is. The phone call I have to make. Not knowing what to say. Thinking about the reaction which I fear. I'll chicken out on it. I'm seeing myself going in this horribly vicious - more vicious than ever cycle. It's my fault after all for being so weak, for being influenced by everyone and everything.
Tired of the bullshit. Too much backspacing in this blog.

Trace must get o u t o f h o u s e.