When will my dream come true and not have an alternate ending?

I continue to push the limits of tired. Two long days of band practice will do that to a gal. I'm not sorry we rehearsed. But I'm awfully displeased that our gig didn't come to pass. What a cheap wrap-up that was.

I didn't have as much time today to be caught off-guard or to get mired in the wrong sort of thinking. In a way, that made the brief flashes of madness all the more pronounced. But then, perhaps fatigue masquerades as gloom and I'm too distracted to discern them. I've had my share of both and they are not so dissimilar.

I just heard James Mason say, "One pet per sailor. Parrots preferred." That was a gift, to be sure.

I have a few ideas, you know. It's not over yet.

There is far too little of the harpsichord in modern music. I know I'm right about this.