it's that time of day

it's that time of day.

(it's always that time of day)

post prandial stupor, don't want to do my work. tired of writing about belgium and xiamen. ticker finished, newsletter hell making my head hurt in the strangest crevices. bumbershoot application in the mail, receipt for confirmed delivery in my pocket, invitation for a floor to crash on if i make it. feeling fit only to explore ebay and compare notes with biscuit (and, of course, hoping that nobody dares bid on the earrings i'm coveting). desiring chocolate, wanting the tips of my fingers to stop hurting. amused that certain opinions and impressions seem to be universal. wondering what the evening holds. wondering what kind of content i need to provide for the guy who's going to put me on the radio. feeling badass as hell in my black cowboy boots and comfortable in my ancient jeans low on hardware wearing the east wind around my neck and still cold tired cold. in a good mood.

two hours, twenty-four minutes to go.

help me send my various applications good vibes?