Where is my mind?

I can't concentrate today. At all. I'm trying to cram lines for my understudy assignments...it ain't working. I'm trying to read a book...not happening. I keep jumping from article to article online, everything from the new Batman costume in 'The Dark Knight' to what is wrong with democracy according to Al Gore. I have the day off...I managed to work out and get to a costume fitting on time. I made dinner. I bought wine. I looked up Festival people to add to my various online friends lists. But I couldn't concentrate on anything of vital importance. Maybe it is because I am, as the Dane once said, "too much i'th'sun." Literally. Maybe I have some sort of new-fangled type of sun-stroke, which keeps me from concentrating on anything other than the mundane.

Oh, and I like a girl.

But that isn't it either. I am perfectly able to function, sans girl. I'm not even sure that if I were to have a girlfriend at home or abroad that I would be in a different mental state than I am now: which, in effect, is one of rambling.

Wine is good. The third glass isn't helping the concentration factor though. I may kill the bottle tonight in my quest for clarity (which we all know won't happen, but it's nice to dream).

Oh, and I've been drinking said wine all alone.

That's statistically bad, isn't it?

Ahh, free-association. It's the rage.

Speaking of rage, Shakespeare's been getting cut out of school programs. Terrible.

Ivan the Terrible was Russian, I believe.

My grandfather was Russian (by decent).

I am not. As I am not his biological grandson.

I'm biologically Welsh.

Welsh are drunkards.

Ergo, I am a drunkard.

.....

Took a break. Ran some lines. Then there was a firework show across the street.

I'm not kidding.

But somebody is.

Who?

Yes.

OK. This blog is dead and so are my brain cells.

Brain. Sells. Sell your brain to science. You are produced.

In vino veritas!