the train of thought is having trouble leaving the station

I’m awake. Must munch a sandwich before seducing the dame camera. Must. Four hours sleep on no food does not good pictures make. It’s sitting there though – all black and sexy. Little marked buttons, push me baby, touch my where I like it. No! Must eat the sandwich. The sandwich is my friend. Okay – no – I’ll sit and write in my journal a moment. Distraction. Chewing and typing works. Sort of. Better at any rate.

I don’t know why you people want my sketches! I was bored! They suck! *loudly confused*
Yes, I’ll still make them, because you asked, and you’re my friends as much as the people who bring me ice-cream at ridiculous hours of night. Four of you to go at three minutes a drawing is not going to bite my day any. In fact, it will give me a reason to come away from the precious shutter/click/whirr and lift my brain gently back into my skull.

Is there anyone in town with any oddly coloured make-up?
I haven’t a stick of grease anywhere in my house.
Damn – sandwich devoured.

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