Month in Review

Far out! Thomas done gone fell down a rabbit hole, same said rabbit hole he’s been meaning to explain with grace, though in that rabbit hole Alice is wearing ruby slippers. Metaphorical re-tellings of such grand metaphors were thwarted by Pop & Dam, who are punishing Thomas’ enamoured indiscretions with postal lacadaisicality. Sylvia would not be pleased.

Kaz went and got 3 & 0 on us, joining the rest of the fam, but all wait with breath (bated) to see what Cecil makes of this. Retardo is too far gone to work up empathy.

The chicken tractor is in remission, blamable on Dingo Nick [real name] {homage, not theft}, who ran away with his digger. Luckily the Progeny of Dingo saved the day, two weeks late, with some quick shovel work. All we’re waiting for is the fowl arrivals. And maybe a motor.

Thomas, still falling, is getting used to the sensation, yet can’t help but wonder where the bottom is. Obama’s prize was dynamite (metaphorical) which he seems to have gotten for turning up. Kind of like tutorials.

Sought Suzie sussed out skype (still waiting on that call…) but MG couldn’t figure out how to work the writer’s see-saw, which is fine, the crowd yells, as long as someone turns up naked.

No word on Leo, and less on Esme, but rumour has that Daniel called his Poppa pudgy (spelled out in luminescent green) which made VeeJay giggle and poke him in the belly (one would hope).

Did Kaz ever wonder if she’d ripped off Razz? And does that make Emma Ham? And where is Timmy? All shoulder and paste? Timmy! Has anyone heard of skype?

No word (who is nicking the damn words?) on Jagger’s pants – leather vs corduroy? corduroy vs leather? Could you decide Mr. Bollinger?

There was no getting to see Jenny and her magic couch (to talk about rabbit holes) leading to further falling – though by now Thomas is questioning directionality, thinking, maybe, down is up and up is down and the world keeps spinning round, like a record baby, right round, round round. Though that’s no reason to forgive you your Phil.

Marcus thinks he might swear too much.

…Heather died.

Maybe the world is upside down.


6 responses to “Month in Review

  1. Leather vs Corduroy, eh? Corduroy may be tomorrow’s fabric today – but I think I know what side my bread is buttered on. And leather seems to win.

  2. World is upside down.

    As for introversion, extroversion I would not say that to be true for the way introversion is defined by some categorizing things–like the Myers-Briggs. (I’m an INTJ, I think. I can’t remember exactly. But I’m pretty sure I was INTJ.) I don’t wholly buy it but I admit I found it a little revealing about certain things.

    I am an introvert who is highly expressive and animated and outgoing. I’m an introvert because I find being around other people drives me kind of crazy. I answered the questions honestly. But I don’t think I’m at a low level of arousal, or how you described it. There hae to be other brain operations going on. The reason I am an introvert and hate parties, etc. isn’t because I am quiet or shy but primarily because (a) I am very affected by the presense of other people. I think my brain is running on all cylinders perceiving them, attending to them. And I don’t enjoy that, after a short while. (b) I’m overly perceptive but have difficulty interpreting people with respect to myself.

    It really feels like what separates me from extroverts is the pleasure they take in other people. I take pleasure in people I know very well and love but not always in other people.

    I have a much more quiet, reserved friend I’d call an extrovert. She has bucketloads of friends and she simply enjoys other people in a way I don’t.

  3. What I meant is I don’t feel like I have a good way of filtering whatever I’m perceiving about the mental states of other people.

    Anyway, that feels like a different mental operation than the one you described.

  4. is Kaz my mum?

    • Nope, but I’d love to hear how your interpretation of that sentence.

      • Lynley Edmeades

        It has something to do with washing machines and brocolli and rolling oneself up into a ball of hypervigilation and then surrendering to gravity from the top of a hill. And her name is Carol, aka Caz.

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