Like sands through the hourglass....

Posted via email from the marvelous world of robynn holmström

Albert's path is a strange and difficult one.

Day three of my David Lynch kick.  Albert Rosenfield and I are one and the same.  If you know me well, you'll see it.

The foundation of such a method is love.

Love,
Robynn

Posted via email from the marvelous world of robynn holmström

'You're my man, Pete."

Sorry, kids.  On a David Lynch kick.  Bear with me.

Posted via email from the marvelous world of robynn holmström

And I'll see you in the branches that blow...

I had a demented morning.  Actually, it's been a bit of a weird week so far and it's only Tuesday.

I'm not feeling remarkably well, and haven't been since Saturday night - my suspicion is that I ate something that didn't agree with me.  In any case, food and I have been at distinct odds with one another for the past few days, and it's caused low energy, poor sleep, and a variety of screwed up dreams whenever I *do* get to sleep.

The screwed-up-edness has started working its way into my waking life as well.  Case in point, this morning.

I woke up, did all my regular morning-stuffs, and was on my way out the door, headphones around neck, when I noticed that my mascara was sitting on the counter.  I'm obsessive-compulsive, and that's not where it belongs.  It was also open.  Very atypical.  Upon closer inspection, I discovered that I'd only done one eye and looked like a ginger version of Alex from A Clockwork Orange on Casual Friday.  I went into the bathroom to fix myself, and had just finished up and was doing a quick once-over in the mirror to make sure there wasn't anything else crucial I'd forgotten (like pants) when my iPod decided to turn itself on without me knowing.  To this:

As one of the world's foremost Twin Peaks fans, it extra-weirded me out.

Logic:  "You woke up groggy from taking Gravol last night, and you're a little discombobulated this morning.  Stop being a freakin' weirdo and get thee to work."

Y'AAARGH.  BELOW BE SPOILERS.

My Brain:  "OMFG.  I'm Bob.  Crap.  Ohcrapohcrapohcrap.  How am I ever going to explain THIS one?"

And now back to your regularly scheduled program.

Love,
Robynn

Posted via email from the marvelous world of robynn holmström

In Other News, I'm Actually a Big Jerk

So as it happens, I jumped the gun and was a little hasty in my trademark Robynn™ response to the email of yesterday and am a total asshole.  Sometimes it helps if you read the second paragraph of things, or so it would seem.

Of course nobody would want robynnholmstrom.com, unless they were crazy.  Or infatuated with me for some reason.  Or chemically imbalanced.  Or something.  Maybe just because it's Thursday.  We don't know.

As it turns out, "Sandy" just wanted to exchange links.  My bad.  I'll read closer next time.

As an olive branch, here's some stuff about go karts.  (I still do, however, harbour all of my resentment toward them.  Being accident prone, close to the ground, and on wheels has distinct disadvantages.)

Love,
Robynn

Posted via email from the marvelous world of robynn holmström