CMM, misled, dropped on my head. Hypersensitive.

Everybody should keep a daily expenditure account; it's good to know where you've wasted your (Mum/Dad's) precious silver...
I suppose 'Adieu' has been given a temporary reprieve...for now.
I've become more verbose and (slightly) less eloquent; more rambling but (
Just finished a nice bout of immunology cud-chewing. 'Food for the brain' translates to heartburn on a cold evening when you're 82 and wonder why you happen to be better acquainted with actin microfilaments than than pretty fillies. Alas. Life's too short; I'm thinking long-term - we'll all (heaven willing) end up as decrepit oldsters in rattan/velvet armchairs(depending on whether you migrate to warmer climates because your seasonal cough might kill you - then again, the risk of DVTs on the flight there could land you in -gasp- a non-NHS hospital!).
Anyway - we future oldsters will at least be able to get on with the high-and-mighty business of being old; I figure I've gathered enough odd experiences (read this blog and double it with your imagination) to bore any potential stem-cell-engineered 'grandchildren' to cadaveric spasm with my ramblings. Why not start early? It's a tragedy when a 19-year old who (just a few hours ago) was bursting with excitement at the mere thought of being alive suddenly becomes bitter in the course of writing a few sentences because he can't face the truth and his pessimistic tendencies creep through a fissure from his brain into his writing. Argh.

I really didn't mean all that - I'm a happy person, remember?! I'm not kidding! I'm a simple git, a git, but a happy git, nonetheless and no matter what I say, I cherish - yes, CHERISH the mere fact that I am so alive (questionable) that I can crack bad jokes (jokes?!?!) about silly things, knowing half-well that people will read this and tell me that I'm weird. I can deal with that. Yeah, you sodding meanies - this is one oddball schizophrenic who defies your taunts; sticks and stones may break my bones, but then...I'll sue you (or your Mummy and Daddy or your trust fund or whatever corporate entity you've willed your eternal soul to for safekeeping).

There was half-moon lighting on tonight. Waxing, methinks.
The lunatic within me cried out:

Miracles on winter nights?
A figment of thoughts combined?
Repressing torture stills the mind;
I begrudge it not for it's true
Alone, here am I, thinking of you.

A five-liner, to complement the 8-liner posted earlier, below (blog post title: Parasite)

A lecturer & PBL tutor passed away on Tuesday. Vehicle accident. Prayers, thoughts and condolences to his family - it's distressing, especially when one remembers how merely a couple of months ago he was delivering a lecture with a video showing foot dorsiflexion to demonstrate the Babinski sign as he tickled his young baby daughter. The apparent randomness of the grim reaper's choice is quite unsettling; one's own mortality is questioned and the mere fact that 'life goes on' is both a source of comfort/coping and yet insanely frustrating.

CMM. MMC. 2100. 0012. Gematric, almost. Refers to today.
Oh sod that. Driven. To bed I go.