life at midnight.

it seems like when everything that needs to be done has been done (i.e., making delightfully tasty shredded pork, finishing up the mlp due next monday or doing some abs exercise in the warm shower to get rid of the food twins), then, alternating between the new yorker and sherlock holmes is the way to spend time on a saturday night.

no workaholic's frantic rush, no emotionally wrecking music, no thoughtless longing, no perennial mood swings.

just thinking itself in exquisitely constructed sentences. with the early autumn's breezes.