Window A

So, blutack isn't the strongest adhesive in the world. Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that the humble blue servant is unable to cling on to its baggage as the walls tremble in the wake of the traffic on the tireless road outside.

I can't seem to shake the tired phrase of "it's been another of those days", so i might as well just let it lie. I had images of chicken stew in my head, courtesy of one of those unnameable cravings that i have been getting in waves for the past few weeks. And so on top of, crawling over the words that were supposed to be describing realism to me was my imaginary trip to the wmart, picking up the chicken, the casserole for the chicken, the dried herbs for the chicken, tramping over to the wet market for the veggies to go with the chicken; me making the stew, smelling the stew as it cooked slowly over the by-now-familiar hissing of the gas stove, even the dreaded washing up of the various used utensils. And therefore, neither work done, nor stew in my belly.

It's such simple complaints really. nothing earth shattering, nothing bonebreakingly stunning. It's me, poorly functioning mitochondria and randomly misfiring synapses. If my brain were the worker and not my body, <--- i actually hate setting up these phrases because then the follow up would have to be a killer.

I'm in the mood for mono and mogwai.
Does that explain more things than these appallingly bland words?