After a marathon of about for episodes of Gilmore Girls which I sort of watch almost on a daily basis when I’m bored, I have come to the conclusion of writing yet another micropost for today since words escape me when a streamline of thoughts come crashing in to overwhelm my subconscious unto my soul’s suffocation. Regardless, there is something queer about such overflowing ideas for they usually come at 11PM. Yes, the hour before the day passes onto the next, when the cock crows queerly at the sight of bats hovering around their cages. It might seem not too much of a fine time for concocting various ruminations concerning a myriad of things but 11PM seems to be my most finest hour in terms of the creative aspect: I envision short story plots, write my free verse, manage my blogging routines or simply conjure up even a trivial piece, and stare blankly onto space adjudging what ought to be a more viable “Gilmore Girls” ending to preempt Amy Sherman-Palladino’s version to be broadcast on Netflix supposedly this year. Now with all aforementioned preoccupation to the best of my abilities, 11PM seems to be ace for me: where the night paves away to yet another morn, towards a serving of a more enhanced version of daydreaming and imagination.

Till my next session of creativity.