  The wind blows across the artic tundra.... No, wait. That's just the fridge. It makes a soothing (and i'm not even being sarcastic here) whooooooooooooshing noise that comes and goes, like waves, only, well, not like waves, but the wind across the tundra. I like the apartment. The other place we lived in wasn't good. The more I'm here, the more i realise that.
The other place seemed dirty somehow; even if Kurt and I cleaned, it still felt sort of unwholesome and dirty. Moak said something fairly mystic about it - that Kurt and I were at odds with some bad mojo, and we were only just breaking even. That explanation works as well as any, i suppose. Anyways, higher comfort level here. Darker, a bit last few days because since moving over, or perhaps a little before I've been getting monster headaches, and i'm definitely feeling the painness when the sun shines merrily in.
(Love you Mr. Sun, I'm not complaining. ) Ok, holy SHIT. Been wracking my brain here for things to write about that are mildly entertaining. I decided to look back into one of my journals - maybe this time three years ago something happened that'd be funny to relate here. Three years ago, I was really, really batshit crazy. And in love,or something kinda like it. Was working on a golfcourse for the summer, totally fucking hating it, and i was sick, very sick with depression and withdrawal symptoms. Here are some choice quotes from June/July of 01: "The most striking image of the day was a deeply tanned man in golf shorts, shirt and cleats puffing whitely on a cigarette on the practice tee. He held the cigarette with a black gloved hand. As he turned to face me (although he did not look up to see the diminutive barmaid standing on the deck, waiting for rain) I could clearly see some sloppy, floppy tits jigging slightly with the movement of his turn. How Lovely. " "I'm sick of being sick. I should have died a year ago. " "I just wish she'd take her brain off neutral..." "...he's finally clued in that I'm a lemon-flavored basket case" Great stuff.
Embarrassing to read, a bit. I wax pretty poetic about a number of young men, and it's not like i didn't feel what i wrote, but wow, i felt like THAT over someone who isn't Kurt? And some things i can't relate to anymore. Now that's a concept, my dear avid readers - have you ever thought for a second that you'd get to a point where you couldn't relate to yourself? And, holy hell the difference between Robyn then and Robyn now is three years. Three. A fart in a windtunnel.
I'm grateful. In other news, I'm happy that friendly people come and visit me. Red and Ajax dropped by, Baka and Peasel came and ate stew and talked about stuffi want to know more about. Slight downside, though. I feel like my head is crammed hard up my ass when i talk to people lately. Or that my tongue is too thick for my mouth. There are a few people i see on a regular basis, and that feeling is not there, but i feel like i'm close to drooling if i attempt to have a Real Live Conversation with people i see but rarely. I guess I'm just excited. 
