Húkerzah!

Tæknilega séð er kominn föstudagur því ég er að skrifa þetta klukkan tvö aðfaranótt föstudagsins. Það er ýmist of eða van. Ég skrifa ekki í tvo daga (sem er, já, fyrir neðan minn standard... líka það að nota orðið standard en það er annað mál). Ég er allavega hættur að væla yfir að ég geti ekkert bloggað. Hver getur svosem gert eitthvað í því nema ég sjálfur? Þeir sem eru ósáttir við það sem á eftir fylgir mega leggja inn skriflega pöntun um afsökunarbeiðni og sem ég mun svo taka fyrir eftir eigin duttlungum.

Rejoice! Yes, my English-speaking alter ego has been reawakened. This is done in an attempt to lift your's truly's writing quality (nimbly avoiding usage of the word 'standard') to their former and perhaps considerable heights. But first thing's first. It has come to my attention that at least some of you were wondering where The Warrior Poet sprung from last Monday. Well it sprung from my head, thumped rhythmically down my arms and shot through my fingers as they hammered the keyboard. Yes, it's an original. I wrote it. It's mine. Copyright Gummi Valur. ...well jolly good, then. Glad that got cleared. I'm moderately happy with it but still could do little but wonder when I heard the suggestion it was taken from a Shakespearian work. No, if William Shakespeare would have written this down he would have curled the paper into a ball and hurled it away. He cannot be matched. Here's an example of the ineffable coolness of his work:

Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,
Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.

Those two lines, taken from Macbeth, are among the many who gave me shivers and it is a shame how many are incapable of enjoying such wondrous articulation. But enough of that. Today (or yesterday, really, as this post will say feb. 06) I reviewed my financial status and subsequently concluded that I had none. I have absolutely no idea where a substantial amount of money went. It's just plain spootin' gone. Someone has been pilfering in a manner of severe ludicity. How will I afford my vittles for the winter? How I say? Have you noticed the snow? Vittles are vital under these conditions. If any of you dear readers know where the blazing buggers the money went please inform me. Ah, and I also accept donations on to my account: 0152-26-306.

But this is enough. This text is going nowhere and justly so for it is only meant to get me started. The next one will be quite interesting I can tell you. Interesting, that is, if I keep to my plan of writing what I intend to write.. er.. when I write.. it.

Oh bugger.

--Drekafluga, a friggin' geek, yes--