It's just one of those evenings...

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... when thoughts come and go and nothing sticks. Just flits of this and that lacking the yeast to rise into a full idea. Uncomposable. I am almost content to just sit and stare into the void. Yet, there is this quiet battle of an undetermined restlessness that gnaws for something... anything to happen. But nothing comes. Nothing. Just a heavy stillness.

Even the sound of the train in the distance does little for me tonight. I use to take solace in it's lonely whistle sounding in the dark - knowing that several someones were going or coming to or from somewhere - faces lit with the excitement of a journey or the anticipation of a homecoming. Tonight it just sounds hollow and flat... empty. Just a sound devoid of any human connection - machenical.

I despise these times and state of being but am content to wallow in it's uselessness for the time being. I do not wish to be snapped out of it yet yearn for something else more vibrant and dynamic... but lack the motivation or the inkling to make anything happen.

I suspect I may just be tired.

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