This, too ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shards of Pol Pottery I am not making any progress on ordering my thoughts, and I am inclined to blame mother pissing nature. What with her warm weather and bright light and loud birds. These damn birds, They're twittering away all night. Shut the fuck up! It's really grating on me, now. I can put double glazing between they and I, but, first of all that doesn't fucking work, and second, it makes the place really bloody warm, which just makes me angrier. Sigh. There's a fucking kookaburra, now! This is really just taking the piss. Stop laughing, you Aussie bastard! It's three in the morning! Well, there you go. That's my excuse for the infrequent and crappy nature of my updates. Look at this crap! Sooo, what's in the news?.. Zimbabwe's going a bit further over the edge, I see. I am becoming quite interested in just what the fuck is driving things, because if I were an eighty-one year old despot, I'd be trying to secure a great legacy for myself, not making long-term plans to control the population, given that I may be dead before I have to steal another election. I mean, if I were a young despot when I woke up tomorrow, I'd probably get a litter built like Mao so I wouldn't have to walk anymore, then I'd start thinking about breaking up urban centres, but if my legs were more tired from trying to stay one step ahead of death, I'd be more into building a big forking monument and bigging up my successor so he wouldn't tear it down. Mh. I'm feeling a little bit thick, lately. I don't like it. I'm going to read a book or talk to a stupid person... Last night, again, I dreamed about walking further than I could manage, and my legs became increadibly heavy and my feet started to hurt. It went on for what seemed like hours, and I was trapped, walking on and on with heavier and heavier legs. I keep having dreams like that, and I feel really tired out when I wake up and can't possibly think about doing anything remotely physical. My demon-free nightmares are going to make me fat, yet. Unless I really am walking a lot in my sleep. I am not sure, which sounds stupid, but I think that I did engage in some sleep walking and sleep closing-the-window-so-I'd-die-of-heat-exhaustion and sleep deciding-the-bathroom-floor-is-comfier, too. I think I'll turn to Morbo for consolation. "...Puny Human Number One, Puny Human Number Two, and Morbo's good friend, Richard Nixon." I enjoy that. 3:37 a.m. - 2005-06-12 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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