I was thinking about how sometimes you can run out of words, or start saying the same things you've always said but just in different ways; but then you can even get caught up in the old pat phrases, or metaphors that you've used to describe something ~ Quotes you found inspiring, or comparisons are starting to blend into rhetoric and it all begins to sound so wishy-washy and lame. I think that's why people stop writing. I think they think it all starts to sound the same. Like listening to a song on a cd over and over. That first time you hear it it is glorified in newness and brilliance, it speaks directly to where you are and your soul sings a halleluah this kind of a recollection or an old yearning because it is singing a song that it has always known. But after 427 of listening to the same song, it's like, geez, haven't I heard this 426 times before, I'm damn sick of this one... You get sick of your soul song! It's weird.

I have had a cold for a week now and it is time for it to skedaddle. What do you think happens to cold viruses? Do they just die? Or do they just simmer down after the war with the badass leukocytes who temper them, now they are waiting in a state, slow resperations and silently glazed over in retreat for when their compadres come back, new forces from the outside to fortify their troops. And just what are they trying to do anyhow? Why exactly are my nose and throat membranes such an exciting place to nestle? There are plenty of other membranes in me without the fear of getting sneezed or coughed out. I think it is this way no matter what kind of danged lifeform you are, you are living warm and cozy, safe and sound, and toe'ing the edge all the time. Like the Anasazi who would build their homes in the sides of cliffs to protect themselves from their enemies. WHAT?! I think the ruins are amazing, but wtf? The enemy is gravity!

It is perilous. All of it.