I have nothing to write.



I am so tired, relaxation is beyond me. I put chocolate into me in mouthfuls, but it is as mere choc-fluid dumping into an abyss. I think of beer and I think of headache and they are synonomous. I dig into my brain to try to write fluidly, wondrously, but find nothing but greyness and fibre that clogs my mind's clarity.



Where is Elaine?