Post-hog

Step away from the blog. Slowly.

Ow ow owwwww.

This isn't writer's block - it's just procrastination, and intense sadness.

I'm Sirius

I mean it. I can't have you sitting in your room reading and not getting things I post.

Searing regret

From whence the imagination plumed

Lost inside a dripping cave

To the deep, deep trenches

So poorly exhumed

With a smiling face I did not bear,

To the the deep, weeping chasms of fear

And towering despair

I'm targeting a new audience of intellectuals. I'm sorry, but you'll all have to move on. All of you.

Nostalgic

Oh, right. I got a haircut yesterday, and the hairdresser felt it necessary, after having finished cutting the hair on my head, to quickly trim some of the hair on my back. I don't know if this is common, but it did happen to me and I don't know what to do now. I felt somewhat appreciative of the act and the casual intimacy of a friendly stranger, a friendly stranger who thought it a good idea to extend her job description to an alternative part of my body. At the same time, I thought it was noteworthy enough in it's unexpectedness to be written into a blog post. But why, dammit? Why did she do it? I didn't interview her afterwards about it, but I should've done.

Perhaps she just likes shaving hair of any kind? Her house may be filled with formerly furry animals, with some in a kind of trans-hairiness state while she waits long enough so she can feel satisfied when she shaves off their furry body hair. Shawn dogs and cats and hamsters and bumble bees everywhere, weeping and licking each others animal bottoms.

What if she just did it to spite me? I did mention that I was concerning about the thinning of some of my head hair, and she may have decided that to dissuade some chance of a hair transplantation from my upper back to my head from happening, that she should shave some of it off. This idea is weird and I think it was an odd decision to make on her part. The hair on my back isn't nearly long enough to be transplanted and formed into any useful or cool hairstyle.

Anyway, I spoke to Jesus about it and he advised me to keep it to myself in an especially secretive way where nobody would ever read about it, like on my blog. Then we exchanged contact details and texted back and forth for a while, but we're not very good friends anymore.

J

Doubting

There is no more news on our previous story. People don't care about the real issues, apparently. John Lennon is dead.

Pyjamas. Pyjamas are great. I wear pyjamas all the time, because they're comfortable. They're like wearing soft air. Air that just likes touching gently in weird and convenient places. They're insulating and touching me in places right now.

Caress not my feet, pyjamas bottoms, for that would decrease my mobility. Do not extend past my waist, for that would make me look like an idiot.

Thanks, pyjamas.

Stressed

Ok, so I was wrong about Richard Herring. But, have you been keeping your eye on the late John Lennon? His movements may have been minimal since December 8th 1980 - I'll grant you that - but did you know that he once took part in an orgy comprising three bears (of gradual increasing size), a dormouse, two same-sex pigs and a sunflower? The sunflower is thought to have been involved because it looked really sad and floppy, sort of like a disappointed penis.

News to come.