I am A Lucky Duck

I feel restless. If a verb could talk, it would say exactly how I feel like lately. I need to pare off this excess energy and go back to the relaxed, sedentary life of a bed tomato.

Well, how. Lately there's been a lot of org meetings, of which I have attended none. Some things are afoot and I think I have to paricipate or so. Responsibility. I hate that word when the world requires me to apply it to certain...tasks. Maybe I'll come around and do whatever is required of me. Eventually. Or not.

There are two reports for two separate subjects, and these reports are a considerable chunk of my future grades. These reports require a lot of excess energy and more. But no. I sit here and just complain about them. Fine. I'll do them next week. Or so. or not.

I am undergoing a period called a Book Surplus. I am swamped with too many good books. They're a nice way to waste my time and excess energy on, hunh? I am, after all, a lucky duck. I like saying that. I am a lucky duck. I may have been a duck in my past life, who knows, and Andy was this maiden who cooked me for Christmas dinner. Are you annoyed now? I am a lucky duck. Anyway, this duck can't seem to be found in a disposition to sit down for a minute and read. This duck falls asleep. On Douglas Adams, at that! Now there's something wrong with me. Or so. Or not.

Speaking of stuff that are something wrong. I downloaded a song of K's Choice that's entitled 'Something's Wrong'. Well, they're my favorite band and I love the way they surprise me everytime I download a song of theirs. They just never do the same thing twice. Anyway, in 'Something's Wrong', the first line is:

if your pubic hair's on fire
something's wrong

And I just had to do that in bold. Yeah, I know it sounds awfully juvenile. But I still get a kick out of it besides that fact. How many songs are awfully juvenile nowadays anyway? They're either awfully good or awfully bad now. This song is simply awfully juvenile. Another line is: if your girlfriend's got a penis/something's wrong. It's not really bastos. It's art. Awfully juvenile art. It reminds me of Stephen Lynch's 'Hermaphrodite'.

So. The point of all this fiddle which is not really a point but simply a horrible waste of your time, your resources and your little grey cells which from an economic point of view should be a suitable time for shut-down is that:

I am a lucky duck.