Oh, bad me.

Well, I seem to be in a long line of folks who haven't been posting regularly. If I may, however, in my defence simply say that I've been home for only a day over the past couple of weeks. And I was adamant about not posting anything, or emailing anyone.

I just wanted solitude and silence.

I wanted a change from my recent pace -- less running around and hopping from here to there, and more enjoying the apartment which I have to myself this weekend.

Well, not entirely to myself. I currently am hosting a chum who seems to have passed out on the pull-out couch. Too much wine can be a terrible thing.

So I am still tempting a several days a week, purely on a part-time basis. Have done almost no creative writing, which has been terrible frustrating. However, I did get pirate lessons for an hour or two this week, which was tremendously entertaining.

We got to dress up, go to pirate elocution lessons, then be schooled with some engineered sword work, which was pretty entertaining. ("Are you sure you're not secretly a pirate?" my coach asked, when my sword-stick nearly gouged him in the shoulder. Amusing, but I bet he says something to that effect to everyone.)

I don't know. I'm sure there's more to write. There are things to say. Stories to be told.

And perhaps someone is telling them right now. But I fear it will not be me. Am tired, just about ready for bed. I have a book I want to be reading.

And dreams I wish to enjoy.

Unlike the stupid helicopter dream I had this morning, where I was steering a chopper through some tricky power-lines (there seemed to have been a grid covering everything), and despite my maneouvers, my mother kept telling me to be careful and not fly so high, while my father criticized my technique.

Even in your subconscious, parents are always there.

It was kind of funny, actually.