Blank Doll sighs and switches off.

Feeling rather down today for various reasons. I had feeling like this. The word morose comes to mind. Ditto sad/angst. Funny thing is, I probably didn't look sad. Hell, I think I was smiling. Ah well. Shit happens.

Ou vas-tu, M. le roi? Mon frere d'esprit, tu me manque. Vraiment. Je ne te trompe pas. Je ne le veut plus. Dis-moi, bientot.

Ah yes, maybe it's because I've been rather tired recently. Or because I've been bored out of my mind. I'd like to do lots of things but there is the family to think of. Toujours la famille. Sometimes I wonder if everybody else feel the same need to keep the family intact. Am I the only one expending so much of my time and energy to ensure that the family runs smoothly? Probably not. Let's not risk sounding like some woe betide fool who bemoans the world when at the same time, he remains in that state of pathetic-hood we call a Pile of Shit.

Yes, I'm gloomy today. Je n'ai rien de l'idee pourquoi.

Read more on market failure. I'm really very interested in economics now. The funny thing is I'm more interested in the political and social implications of economics. The ruling function of economics. And no. I don't have the energy nor the will to burst forth into rhetoric. Maybe another day.

Spoke to Geri on the train. Ha ha, yes, don't watch Exorcism ok? Unless you get submitted to Peer Pressure because trust me, you won't be able to sleep thereafter. Hur. It's quite depressing because I've always felt some sort of affection for Lucifer of the Christian faith. It always did seem to me that the God of the Christians seem too malignant, too capricious, too vindictive, too human. How can God be just like us and still make the world so beautiful. Look at what happens when we try to approximate a portion of GOD's powers. We create nuclear warfare. We destroy arable land. We kill off more species than we can name. Ou est-Adam du jardin? Ou est le fils du Dieu?

Never mind. I've thought of a dress that keeps me awake at night. I think they make for a nice mid-collection. Nothing ground-breaking but really pleasing to the eye. Commercial. Yes, commercial. I hate the artistic spirit because nothing made by it is ever wearable. The poetic spirit is different. That which is called the poetic spirit is that which makes the perfect mother-of-pearl button draw a final breath of delight.

All right, I should end this now and go throw myself onto the floor. There is something distinctively masochistic about my sets. Oh well, it's going to get worse once I start running. Oh and haha, tried doing that weird exercise that I asked Tong about, that angel thingie? I can do it! We of my family are too flexible to let a few ligaments stop us.

C'est tout.