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Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Fever when you hold me tight.

Life has become one large Monty Python sketch.

I'm lying in bed, down with the cold of the century, and I imagine a 21 gun salute. The guns are loaded. They go off and kill a bunch of ducks flying in formation overhead. The ducks fall into a strategically placed cauldron. A trumpet plays an upbeat tune.

I want soup.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Life is a faulty cooler.

Nobody can guarantee you a place in the universe.

Here, I suppose we assume that The Universe is a fancy new uber cool restaurant that all the glitterati hang out at whilst they air-kiss.

Or not. That line just kept resounding in my head today at 6 am when the alarm was blaring in my ear, as I struggled desperately to not wake up. At the time, I thought it was a profound reflection on life.

The latest one is the title of this post.

My little 8x10 room in the middle of dessert is sweltering hot. Unless the cooler works. Which, for the last several months, was not the case. Now, if I open the cooler up, give the fan of the cooler a good heave-ho and then turn it on, tadaa. It works.

For a minute there I thought it could be a metaphor for life.

No?

No.

Ok.

Bye.

Thursday, October 07, 2010

Alert the Pentagons.