Poem: The Better Side of Silence

This is a rough draft.
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The Better Side of Silence

He did not know how long he could on to this.
The piece of sweaty paper in his hand,
the ideals of speech and conversation,
the belief that relationships tasted better
peppered with a little small talk to taste.
He had grown up believing that purity was a terrible thing,
and everything had to be diluted, shared, mixed in
and his voice, above all, should be contributed
because one note in the silence is empty, and dull,
and too close to pure for the palate of most diverse indulgences.
Out of curiosity, he tried it once; he shut his mouth,
and now, in the other end of his old age,
he couldn't ever imagine opening it again.

And Now, The Rest of the Story

( First, a quiz. )

Not much to report today, actually. I'm having one of those "I feel stupid" days, to which I reply, "Yes, I'm stupid! What of it?" Other than that, things are groovy.

Taking the advice of the very distinguished lazarusrat, I went out and bought a little notepad for writing down expenses and purchases. Today, I bought a strawberry cream cheese muffin (:9) and I'm planning on a round of mini-golf if they are indeed open. I'm praying that they're open. :)

Ran the new Changeling game last night, or, at least, had everyone make characters and ran a few preludes. Overall, it went well but it's been plagued with the same problems as ever; too much action sometimes, not enough action somewhere else, and the tendency for the Storyteller to cease all brain activity somewhere around 11 p.m. :P Now that I know for sure I probably can't handle much after then, I think I'll try to be a bit tighter time-wise. 6 - 11 p.m. should be enough for one game, as long as I plan properly.

Now, it's off to work.