Transparent as a Prism

It's ten minutes to five on a day that has been excruciatingly tiring only through its lack of constructive provisions. Scouring news sites, blogs and forums, building fictional gaming machines I wouldn't dare pay for, and now observing the simplicity Blogspot is reduced to by that lesser browser known as Opera. Can't say I don't enjoy the click and drag navigation though.

Small things happen, little things yet grand. Wrestling with my Media Player at work did not reveal in the struggle what taking one small chance did. And now I find myself blissfully immersed in tunes from Broadway with their glamour and glitz, and magical ability to entrap the soul and transport it to a world of stages and spectacular performances.

I sit at my desk freezing while outside the window, past the bug quashed against it, the sun continues its brutal assault on a city ill-prepared for such actions.

There's this desparate need to throw myself into something that shall test me emotionally, and open me to something new now, as I feel so content with everything that to ask for more would be a greed most distasteful. So instead of wanting more (which is always pleasant), there is a desire for something new. Filled with such passion as would remain with me past those brief moments in the night where the sparks fly so far away from any surface inflammable.

In the pursuit of rebuilding feelings from the past, the long sought after Beauty and the Beast finally made an appearance in my life. Perhaps it was the time of the experience, so late after a day so full, but the magic was infinitely less. Pedestals built by memories are so often shattered by beings that shrink as their shadows loom larger. In a fortunate twist, the grip of the music is so old and ingrained that it remains past any temporary blips such as a change in taste.

Why can't they be like we were,
perfect in every way.
What's the matter with Kids today?
8-) Bye Bye Birdie - Medley

It's a sad thing, to write only as a last resort against boredom. As long as you're searching for alternatives when bored, reaching into yourself requires incredible will power. So much simpler to remain shut and waffle on and on and on about nothing.

So they opened a new place. A 10 scoop ice-cream cone for £30. At a per scoop rate it's not so bad. And to go there is an adventure of sorts.

The door filer sounds so much like a dentist's drill.
phaw