From the Institute of Amoir

27 Jan

Recent studies have conclusively proven that my body clock is more stoopid than your body clock.

The same studies have shown that my body clock enjoys nothing more than watching episodes of Dexter and Torchwood at 2:30am. Though the studies still do not indicate why that Owen chap manages to score beaucoup des bootay when he looks like a shaved ginger australopithecine.*

Digressions aside, it’s those early hours of the morn when ghosts lick the salt of your resolve. Cigarettes need to be smoked, there are tasty treats to eat and drink and oh so many rabbit holes to chase down. Then again, it should be noted my resolve is just as rare during the daytime hours as well.

At the same time, a slow adrenaline wave begins to swell. As all the anxieties crest, so too do the solutions. They’re all so simple. Moments of wonderful gifted clarity that are, I’m ashamed to add, often ignored. Things have been changing for the better despite the stresses and those upward steps are stronger and less scrambling.

It’s only at these late hours when all appears both as simple and as complicated.

* Though, Torchwood would undoubtedly be interested in the ginger-monkey-hominid/feral-dog hybrid Gwen and Owen’s coupling could create.

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