Ulrike sent excerpts from Facebook in which the pioneers describe their
wanderings into South Africa and several groups have been attacked and
many have been killed and wagons are covered in blood and corpses are
everywhere. I cried and it was a catharsis and I feel better.
As long as I don’t look at my hydro-agriculture document, the headache and
nausea is gone. I explained to Alet and Dea how this unhappiness started with
learning about the Merino sheep in standard two at school, continued with the
Mali-cow-wagon and was even exacerbated by the Arab influence making me
read clocks in Arabic while I still can’t read clocks in my maternal language.
We laughed until the tears flowed! I wish I could tell you this in person and watch
your reaction as I destroy all holy cows and myself and explain life according to my
inner child – I visualise you bent double with laughter and cramps as tears flow and
you cannot stop laughing!
The merino sheep – agriculture and livestock – was one of the subjects covered in
the standard 2 curriculum. I was devastated by the existence of the merino sheep
just eating and sleeping and having more sheep, never telling or hearing a story and
therefore bored to death – I could not believe existence could be so barren and
empty. I was deeply unhappy to learn about the sheep.
And then much later I did a course in Arabic and was enchanted by the musical flow –
the Wazir and the Lady Jamillah from the Wizarrah and the Safiir from the Safaarah –
but the old problem of telling the time and reading clocks once again made my life a
misery. So my poor brain got all its connections crossed and all I remember is Sabah–
al-geir and Sabah al-nuur and Salaam-Aleikum and Shubaak and Shariah banaduurah.
So with the merino sheep and Arabic shocks in my psyche, I have no room for a hydro-
agricultural document which feeds sugared facts all pizzicato al fresco to everybody
who might feel called upon to fund such activities. I am so glad for dams and things,
but reading about funding and constructing is more boring than anything that Terry
Pratchett described as boring enough to mush up the brain.
My brain has been mushed several times and the electric pathways are all crossed.
Diary Wednesday 20 February 2013
wanderings into South Africa and several groups have been attacked and
many have been killed and wagons are covered in blood and corpses are
everywhere. I cried and it was a catharsis and I feel better.
As long as I don’t look at my hydro-agriculture document, the headache and
nausea is gone. I explained to Alet and Dea how this unhappiness started with
learning about the Merino sheep in standard two at school, continued with the
Mali-cow-wagon and was even exacerbated by the Arab influence making me
read clocks in Arabic while I still can’t read clocks in my maternal language.
We laughed until the tears flowed! I wish I could tell you this in person and watch
your reaction as I destroy all holy cows and myself and explain life according to my
inner child – I visualise you bent double with laughter and cramps as tears flow and
you cannot stop laughing!
The merino sheep – agriculture and livestock – was one of the subjects covered in
the standard 2 curriculum. I was devastated by the existence of the merino sheep
just eating and sleeping and having more sheep, never telling or hearing a story and
therefore bored to death – I could not believe existence could be so barren and
empty. I was deeply unhappy to learn about the sheep.
And then much later I did a course in Arabic and was enchanted by the musical flow –
the Wazir and the Lady Jamillah from the Wizarrah and the Safiir from the Safaarah –
but the old problem of telling the time and reading clocks once again made my life a
misery. So my poor brain got all its connections crossed and all I remember is Sabah–
al-geir and Sabah al-nuur and Salaam-Aleikum and Shubaak and Shariah banaduurah.
So with the merino sheep and Arabic shocks in my psyche, I have no room for a hydro-
agricultural document which feeds sugared facts all pizzicato al fresco to everybody
who might feel called upon to fund such activities. I am so glad for dams and things,
but reading about funding and constructing is more boring than anything that Terry
Pratchett described as boring enough to mush up the brain.
My brain has been mushed several times and the electric pathways are all crossed.
Diary Wednesday 20 February 2013
No comments:
Post a Comment