Pages

Tuesday, 21 September 2004

Winged Things

I have a bruise on my nose. Caused by a giant hardbody winged thing flying straight into me at about 60 miles an hour. Bastard! Sometimes (ok, a lot of the time) being here is like being on some weird drug.

Yesterday I saw a butterfly the size of my hand that looked like a cabbage. I mean the butterfly looked like a cabbage. Not my hand. Obviously…at least I don’t think my hands look like cabbages. Those of a 90 year old crone, perhaps, but not cabbages.

What I do have, however, are hobbit feet. The red polish that Milly puts on the floor has mixed with the sand and the dirt and lodged in the cracks on my feet caused by the extreme heat.

Also, I have no ankles.

The last time I had no ankles was when I was on a bus with the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted for 3 days, but that’s for another time.

I am covered in black smuts. So is my laptop, my desk, my chair, the entire office, my house, the garden, ad infinitum. There is always someone burning something here.