buried deep in a telegram i'm sure i never got

curled up on my side, the pillow robin made me for my birthday squished under me, i watch as the images flicker across the computer screen. my legs are seizing and my arm has fallen asleep and i just can't seem to move.

melissa and i woke up late today and proceeded to take four hours to get moving. well, we moved, but not in any comprehensible direction until about one thirty, when we finally made it to the art gallery. we looked at mondrian and rothko and that stupid idiotic pillar of flame crap piece. i told melissa it had no purpose, and then we proceeded to debate about modern art loudly for about twenty minutes getting stern looks whilst wandering between masterpieces.

[also- melissa will be angry if i contine to call voice of fire pillar of flames, so i had better maybe say it was voice of fire, and not piller of flame. it deserves to be a piller of flame....]

anyways, after art we walked home.

i'm not sure how far it is. i can't tell. i think i was acting a little crazy and a bit wild by just bashing through the crowds and going like there was no tomorrow, but sometimes i feel like i need to move. it's the staticness of late.

we later gorged on too much chocolate and smartfood and watched lost [oh sun, why can't you be a good husband and just love your lovely wife?] and then watched eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.

does it make me an uber-ubergeek that i was excited that they pulled the title of the movie from pope's eloise to abelard series?