Apparently, tonight is Act II of the Same Play.
Perhaps it's a combination of being drained (in a good way, since today was fun and full of lovely artists, writers, and fair-goers-- and some people I was so dorkily excited to meet!) from the West Hollywood Book Fair, and being drained of... water? Well, not drained so much as I'm just at fault for not having drank enough while out in the sun. And by not enough, I kind of mean not at all. Whoops.
The book fair was lovely, and it deserves a recap if and when the busy-ness of life wants to slow down for a bit--but being up and too energetic for sleep and having too full a day tomorrow is not quite as nice.
Before I crack and reach for the Excedrin or ice... I will make use of this time spent without rest, and just bring this entry to its incoherent best.
To quote a famous Dylan Thomas poem... (the true meaning of which is actually very sad, and somber), and to be somewhat silly, while poking fun at various life stresses bringing out the repressed rage in a person (and reference that film with which I'm most obsessed, also considering that Halloween is coming up), here is my interpretation with random images.
"do not go gentle into that good night"
(observe sweet kitteh, attempting to maintain the light of his/her personality, gently falling asleep into the good night)