I'm supposed to be in Timbre right now.

But thanks (for the second time this year) to another incredibly frustrating lack of personage, I am here blogging, after having given up on a deeply disturbing novel, written in such rich, dark but beautiful prose that I feel like a part of me had been murdered (brutally so) after parting myself from it.

Though I would be mad if I continued reading it. I feel mad now.

Headache.

Ryan said three doesn't make a party. And thus we shan't go.

But the entire purpose of going out is to relax. And you can't relax with a party.

Besides, three was fine the last time.

I need to go out.