Apr. 27th, 2005

robinbloke: (Default)
Books are beginning to effect me, or at least make me think they're effecting me. Which, I suppose is effecting me. Mind you you can nitpick and say that everything effects you, or me, or indeed something in the whole chain reaction of the universe interlinked through strands of wossnametm sense of the word at least.
That said the books do effect me in that I feel definately different lately, that plus some freakily cool dreams1 has left me with a very mellow outlook at the moment, soon to be enhanced by the several bottles of vodka I brought back through customs2. Well not now as I'm back at work and using a few minutes to ground myself by braindumping so I don't act too strangely at work, not that they're exactly expecting me to be normal here these days anyway.
Anyway, before I took a short hike up irrelevancy trail I'll tell you the book I'm reading at the moment is the excellent Stranger in a Strange land by Robert Heinlein, and the strange fuzz I have accumulated in my brain like a decade old vaccum cleaner is leaving the world passing me by in slow motion as I gently wave regally from my llama drawn buggy.

Regardless the fuzz is thickening and I should attend to my regal duties, carry on subjects.



1 No - I can't remember enough for it to be interesting beyond imagining yourself being wrapped in warm butter as you lay on a hot toasted crumped and let sunbeams slowly roll over your skin.
2 1 Litre of Absolut for 13 euros, bargain.

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