Apparently, Mr. Huxley was entirely too intellectual for his own good at times, which made it extremely fortunate that he married a beautiful, vivacious Belgian ex-pat called Maria Nys, who was freespirited and bisexual. She was a partner, lover, and even a matchmaker for him/them. They shared what can only be called a longstanding polyamorous triad, infact.
So, I went to the local library to find the book. They didn't have it in Santa Clara. They didn't have it in San Jose. They didn't have it anywhere, really. They might be able to get it from somewhere else in the country and have it shipped over... If they can manage, they might order it, however. Hope so, otherwise I will have to buy yet another book I don't have room for.
Libraries need more money... much more. The Iraqis, however, do not need more $1M cruise missiles. They are suffering from a cruise missile surplus right now, thankyouverymuch, and the amount of targets left in Iraq that are actually worth more than $1M is running out rapidly.
I've been thinking a lot about what I write lately. I'm an input/output conduit for information, it seems. Raw data comes in one end, and hopefully comes out the other with some sort of context and meaning. Still, words make lukewarm companions and dubious friends, especially when the data is as universally negative as it has been lately.
I know that spreading the truth as best as I can determine is a good thing, but I wish it did more to make me happy. I don't want to become bitter, or lonely, or depressed, even though it would be so easy to become all of the above right now. I mostly just want to feel loved, to feel cared about, and really just to escape from all of (waves and gesticulates wildly) this.
I need a long drive in the country. I need to be surrounded by nature. I need to be held and kissed passionately for a prolonged period of time... I'd *like* more, but that's all I need.
But do you want to know what I *don't* need?!
(waves and gesticulates wildly...)