fpf?+20: I smashed a 73 inch plasma screen over my maker's head last night in an effort to reach the one I love.

(written 30 October 2009)

Sick:
I would have taken the suppository if it would have made a difference.
My life has been occluded, like the moon curving inexorably into the moon-sized spot of shade from the earth, by sickness this past week. I finished a whole bottle of antibiotics to no effect, and now I have another, and I went for a B12 shot (see section on "poetry" below) and I have Sinutab boxes enough to build a little fort for my Indians...
And finally this morning I feel in my ear, nose & throat, that I may be getting better. Jeeeesus.



Inventing = Hold on just a minute bud:
Leaf blowers are irritating all the way down the line, from the guy who has to buy it (instead of the R40 broom) to the guy who has to take it back to the shop to get it fixed (instead of buying another R40 broom) to the guy who has to use it under grubby earmuffs (instead of spending a quiet morning with the swish-swish of the R40 broom) to all the guys within a 1km radius of it who would prefer to have their walk/drive/shower/coffee without a goddamn BRRRRRRRRRR (instead of the non-sound of the R40 broom). Pretty much like sweets packed in medicinal blister-packs, they just shouldn't have invented the leaf-blower when they came up with the idea. I hope that when the guy who invented the leaf blower went home and said "Honey. I've invented the leaf blower" she packed her bags and the kids and said "Fuck you Arnold. I'm going to my mother's - don't ever fucking call me".

"Poetry":
Welcome to the section on Poetry. This poem is about me getting an injection and passing out - NOT because I'm a big wuss (hand) - but because I hadn't had lunch yet and had taken too many Sinutab before-hand. All in, passing out gets my vote:

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When I passed out the other day
and lay there in my underpants
all my troubles slipped away
down on the clinic floor

I dreamt I rode a horse around
the world until I saw:
the highest mountain ever built
the widest river ever spilt
the deepest jungle ever breathed
the sweetest flowers ever weaved
through the rag-torn meadow grass
beneath a sky of smokey glass

and then I blinked and wondered mimp?
I what doing on am the floor?
then I looked up and realised Clare -
and quietly I closed the door.

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Day 1.1,

Tom