ice-cream - I think my stomach is going to press up into my throat and strangle
me in revenge for my stuffing so much food down my throat.
I think I must have been a goose in a former or consecutive (according to Seth,
Jane Roberts) reincarnational life – because I can't stop stuffing myself as if
getting ready to produce high quality foie gras and as I'm typing this, my
eyes are darting everywhere, trying to locate more things to eat.
Martin is watching rugby, swearing violently as his team is losing and Tiaan
is studying in his beautiful bedroom: I put a zenith blue blanket on his bed
and a cream and orange cloth on his desk to stop the wooden table-top
from gathering so much dust - now the material absorbs the dust.
So my cup is full - literally and figuratively. I'm floopily flolloping and flirruping,
globbering, glurrying and willowying in synchronisation with the matress in
Douglas Adam's “Life, The Universe And Everything”... as Marvin is explaining
his despondent feelings with lugubrious mien.
Oh cyberstructured hyperbridges, may my hyperappetite be satisfied and
other things take my mind away from Marvin's dejected moments of futility.
G'night from a flurbled and vollued Pretoria...
[Diary Notes Saturday 23 August 2014]
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