November 18, 2010
In which, of course, I break my vows. To make sense, of course. Contracted. Documented. Somewhere in this month of November, all neatly wrapped in 100 words and tied with a pretty bow. But I Lie, often. (As if you couldn't tell) So I broke it. Not my fault though. I feel feverish. Sick. I've been reading Orson Scott Card so Peter is reciting words in stark and Jane is Speaking through Val's mouth and I'm left wondering If I should stick around, read between the lines, or let the 14 point font envelop me in warm quilts and slumber.