I'm hiding inside my mystic pocket under Syngrou Avenue from a very hot day in Athens. The fan is blowing directly on me and the glare from the white-hot marble of the patio outside is blocked by a metal grate, lowered halfway down my door. I've managed to control my climate SO well that I just drank a hot chocolate, because I felt like it.
This is to serve as a sequeway to showing another bit of stubborness on my part, something I reported in my last entry, namely that I would have a website.
My confession: I wrote that to force myself to finish the website, and it has not worked.
In the meantime my writing is getting scrawled on napkins, paper tablecloths, and in 60 word bits on "Twitter.."
altogether inadequate to talk about what's actually happening in life, but I get the point. Brevity is the solution to procrastination and many other excuses for not keeping in touch with relations, whether the strange or familiar.So I'm eating crow and my hat, both while my foot is inside of my mouth or in a manner of speaking because I didn't actually use my MOUTH to make this dumb commandment out loud, I used my fingers. But to be honest, my fingers have suffered enough. One look at my cuticles, the two crooked pinkies, the callouses on my middle finger where my sketching pencil rubs...and you will wonder if I don't hate my fingers. So now I'm finished with apologizing to my fingers and to you so I can just launch back into what I started, if not exactly where I left off.
So as not to overwhelm you, I'll post a blog a day (to the best of my internet-access-handicapped abilities) until I've caught up on everything written.
All my love,
Paige
