The Stars and the Cookie Jar

Who's looking forward to tomorrow? Not me. I have class and work, and I have much more yet to write, and --

Awww. At the really scary crescendo of the music I'm listening to, Bast peeked around the door and padded in. Who's my widdle Witch-Kitty of Birmingmar?

Damn cat's blowing coat all over my room.

So yeah. back to what I was saying. I'm trying to focus this one piece as much on perceptions of homosexuality as on character; don't know if it's working. May scrap and burn it.

Bleh. No muse sings, tonight; I think I just get this way when I know I'm being graded. All the words fliffle away like milkweed floss...