It is good to be back. It is good to be back, it is good to be back. If I repeat it often enough I will hopefully truly and honestly believe it. Words are a powerful thing, words are a very powerful thing, words are a really powerful thing.
Well, it is actually good to be back. I hope that I will open one of the drawers in the bedroom and there it will be, my brain, waiting for me, cool, focused, glowing in a bright orange color... possibly pulsating, and I will open that flap on the back of my head, plop in that brain and then we will just need to find a nice electric outlet to get the thinking going again... and then the posts here will become longer and maybe a little more exciting as well...
I sometimes imagine my brain as a little dried fruit, brownish, darkish, tiny, de-cored.
My father would often announce at the dinner table that his was like a completely smooth plastic like surface... so we both don't really mean it, of course.
It is good to be back, it is good to be back. I have to yet find the words to describe how different it feels to look at New York now, after having spent days in a crazily saturated, yet incredibly relaxed place... (at least for me it was.)
I can really feel that the thoughts are spinning faster by the minute... now I just really need to put them together onto a little string... and we will have a little thought neckless...
Oh, and then the brain, and then the outlet...
I shall work on this one...
(And don't think that I have not written anything about Art Basel Miami Beach... because I have, but it was so bad that I decided to reedit it...)
