MOVED INTO A FRESH PAIR OF PYJAMAS AND…

…I think i’m quite at Cambridge.

Hearing music with subtitles on “I’m Mister Coffee” with Martin Luther King’s “I have a bath”. Too utopian perhaps, but on the toilet I’m going to be prepared to meet inspiration halfway.

‘CBA to Sleep’ read by my Madame Bovary is a breath of special treat.

‘Wittgenstein’s Ladder’ by David Hasselhoff ❤ sounds like a snail who keeps farting and blaming it on Mark Zuckerberg in the seats of doom at an internet cafe in an escalator in with an itty bitty neck.

Fascinating. *does the Spock Sundae*.

a whole hour on Google Maps zooming into the Klingon Dictionary

In case you’ve ever wondered where some of my stranger image titles/captions in various places around teh web come from, I’ve decided it’s time to let you all know – and I’ve mentioned it before but you may not have gotten that memo – that they don’t come from my deranged imagination fully formed, not at all – they’re only based on the contents of my brain. They are in fact Markov-chain generated, based on one- and two-word units from everything I’ve ever written on Facebook. It’s all thanks to a brilliant piece of software developed by some nerds at Princeton, who created http://www.what-would-i-say.com for the benefit of mankind. It’s great fun, fascinating if you’re into statistics, linguistics or algorithms, and of course a very useful resource for a lazy absurdist.

a modern poem: ra ra Rasputin, lover of stones with stripes

ra ra Rasputin, lover of stones with stripes.

He was a bankrobber but he never hurt nobody.

ra ra Rasputin, lover of stones with stripes.

He just very interesting. He just loved to steal your children.

ra ra Rasputin, lover of stones with stripes.

Spock in bed, ray of time, eminently practical garb.

ra ra Rasputin, lover of stones with stripes.

Some natives at the airport and the propanol in the shrubs.

wouldn’t it be biscuity

(…which contained a mosquito against my laptop and made my picture froggy.)

what are the rules?

I think i’m quite at Cambridge…

Hearing music with subtitles on “I’m Mister Coffee” with Martin Luther King’s “I have a bath”. Too utopian perhaps, but on the toilet I’m going to be prepared to meet inspiration halfway.

bloggy

Although I always have a moderately large supply of entertaining things to say and share, I’ve been a terrible blogger from the outset. I’ve wondered why, and entertained various hypotheses about it (extreme laziness, shyness, trauma around written assignments ever since Cambridge?) and I realized that the reason I avoid blogging is due to  accumulated guilt about not blogging.