It is almost one o'clock in the morning. I am recovering at the moment from the frothing typing-frenzy I had been whipped into over the story I have been writing, and I am at an incredible loss as to what I should write about now...

I suppose I could jabber on incessantly about nothing of any particular importance as long I fulfill the requirements that I have put forth tonight that I might be required to fulfill (beauty in redundance). The problem is that I am so tired from having done just about nothing at all this whole day though, and am no longer in any kind of mood to Think; I have done enough Thinking for one day and have become rather sick of this cracked and corroded Mind that I call My own. I would cherish the chance to have it altered just enough so that I might be able to remove it now and again and store it in a fancy little box. Yes, the kind of box made of cedar wood with the red velvet lining! Perhaps even a special glass encasement filled with the glowing green brain-preserving fluid, so the precious grey organ will not dry out and pucker. After all, Minds can be so burdensome and need to be put away for a spot of Thought vacation...

Or, better yet, the invention of some kind of short term Thought Vaccination might do the trick! We could all do well with a few hours of non-Thought*, without the strain of trying to not Think (which, under normal circumstances, would only lead to Thinking about not Thinking, therefore rendering the whole process of not Thinking null and void).

Thought and Thinking are wonderful functions, but they can be so terrible and disheartening at the same time. There must be some manner of successful non-Thought or non-Thinking (not including eastern meditation rituals, because that in itself takes an amount of Thought) to be discovered somewhere in this wide world of ours; someday I shall make it My quest (though not a likely prospect) to seek out this knowledge. Who knows? I might just find it...