if the children don't grow up

so, i've kinda fallen in love with a literary character.

ok, maybe in love is a bit extreme. i think perhaps it might be more accurate to say that i have an intense girly crush on a fictional man named geordie. hahahahahaha.

in other news, eight billion tons of fish later and i'm still ready to kick some serious ass. mr. whitefish has no power. no power at all anymore. mr. lake trout is a slightly different matter, but we shall pretend that he desn't factor in this at all.

now, i must go back and see what my literary crush is doing.

excuse me.

sunday was a bright day yesterday

about a week ago, i marched into the fish shop, picked up a thawed piece of fish from last novemeber, and ran my tounge quickly and decively across its skin.

i'm finding a level of peace here, a pace of life that seems to be agreeing a little too well with me. the limestone and cold water combination has yet to woo me completely into itself, but i have this sneaking suspicion that it may trump granite, for all it's worth.

today there's been a million and one phonecalls before we've even opened. i have to serve customers and then, later in the afternoon, drive to summerfolk with salads and tartar sauce and see what exactly it is that happens when kevin and james and mot attack a folk festival wearing tyedye.

on wednesday i'm stealing melissa for a boatride, and unpolluted starlight.

quite simply, this is fantastic.

did i imagine?

this might be it, you know.

i've stared at the empty space stretching below any words i've written here in the past month and have become at once under and overwhelmed by the sheer ridicuolousness of throwing out random tidbits to the internerd. at the same time, there's something in me- probably the vox- that refuses to quite give this up. it's vain, selfish, and really, attention-whorish of me, but i quite like the thought that someone, somewhere stumbles across these simple nothings and maybe gains a chuckle, or a smile, or something from descriptions of myself acting a total fool [as it ususally seems].

that, combined with the semi-eject i've decided to perform in my life has pushed me toward trying one last time, allowing access to small thoughts and happenings while back in fishland may keep me sane.

well, my version of sane, at least.