boring, sydney. boring.

as i just asked my good friend, i wonder when i'll actually get back to actual writing. for a while there, i was building up a decent head of steam as far as decent poetry is concerned, and even managed to put some mileage behind a long-ish short story or decent short novel before life got in the way and derailed my progress...
he told me i'd get back into it when i was no longer under uber-stress. great. that means never.

my trip to the orient is booked and i'm just waiting to get my chinese visa'd passport back from the embassy. i'm looking forward to earning my chops out at the factories as well as spending some time in Hong Kong (think bladerunner's blue-ish always drizzling back alley mysterious locations and you'll get it), but overall the greatest appeal that the trip holds for me is the guaranteed 2 week break from the craziness here.

whine whine whine...regretably (sp?) i seem to default to complain mode. my approach tends to see that positive things are self-evident and require no acknowledgement, whereas negative nuggets absolutely must be pointed out and lamented...

look for enough shit and you're certain to find it.

i've got to start doing that whole glass is half full thang again, as i wasn't always quite so jaded, y'know.
wow, there's apparently a clearance sale on apostrophies.

i just got off a wonderfully frustrating little conversation with my office in montreal. either i am a stand alone head and shoulders above the rest genius, or i am indeed surrounded by astounding knuckle-draggers.

it's incredible, really.

i am also developing a rather healthy resentment towards others. bring it, fuckers.