I'm in the middle of a slightly psychadelic experience (if things can indeed be 'slightly' psychadelic) which has rather put me off course what I was intending to blog about.
I lit some incense to create ambience. What has in fact been created is a gagging, thick smoke stream headed straight for my face, filling my nostrils with a burning perfume. Not ambience. I think I'm experiencing an air flow malfunction, thus rendering the calming, settling qualities I wished to evoke, through the lighting of said incense, an eye-watering fug of surreal, blue-tinged smoke spirals, reminiscent of centaurs, gryffins, nyads and the like.
Nyads are all well and good, but they are beginning to make me feel a little woozy... and lightheaded... and... and...
Right. Smoke abated, and incense extinguished with a soft 'phut' between fingers. Can once again think clearly. No wonder N's the way he is. He goes through packets of the stuff, he must have centaurs coming out his ears. No space for room tidying or dishwasher emptying therefore.
Can't for the life of me remember what was going to be in this post now. Something about what a bitch Scarlett O'Hara is, how undeniably cool Rhett Butler is (ignoring all the misogyny etc of course), and how the Library Fascism is getting increasingly out of hand and, yes I'll say it, positively dangerous. But another time chaps. The old brain's atop a gryffin.