In 34 years I wrote 274 draft post but I can't remember why

tonight

With 0.5 l of water a quarter of cast glass rozmieszańá in her bag by adding the contents of 3 spoons of sugar.

1 pound beef mince
1 onion, chopped
oil
3 tablespoons flour
2 1/2 cups milk
salt and pepper, to taste
sliced buttered toast

Add oil to hot deep skillet along with the beef. As the meat begins to brown, add onions, salt, and pepper. Reduce heat to a simmer and cook thoroughly. Stir flour into beef and onion mixture until totally absorbed.

Slowly add milk, stirring constantly, until thickened. Taste and adjust salt and pepper.

Serve over slices of toast.

cook rice and beans
listen to neil young

stop asking questions
when/
because/
if/

everything seems
far too loud

screen doors

this is what a blimp looks like

never read other people's posts out loud

apparently, it ruins them

i wouldn't tell anyone else but you this kind of thing

i only wanted to walk to the park and around the bigger park i don't know that well see a few new houses get a bit of air and sunshine and maybe come back home with a few stories but when i got to so many street names i didn't recognize and the pavement started getting hotter and i was feeling like i'd already walked too far from home i realized i didn't have the phone or our number or how to ask for directions to a place i could not name i went all hidden by hedges scared

i got completely lost this morning

i am not sharing my toys with you

the thing i think i know
is that really i can't do this either

see

because really all i've been doing is sitting in the garden smoking too many cigarettes and watching crap on television and wondering if i have too many spots and if i've gained too much weight since i've gone all medicated and for-fucks-sake probably-just-(maybe only pretend)-happy

instead i stay up late nights playing escape-the-room games

[and that's probably (not-really not a mystery) but a joke]

that's not living real life though

is it

---

is it?

---

Asia dreams of blue suede pumas and Spartacus and feels thankful for (not) having to think about the value of every single second of this life or the mysterious humming sound she knows that they both hear, so randomly often, now in their new house.

it's thursday. again.

is solitare

maybe if we were just younger, i think. then. but then, then. i was psychotically emotionally distressed. unconscionably inconsolable. insecure. moody. weird. unpredictable. strange. i had the wrong hair. the wrong clothes. the wrong skin. the wrong voice. the wrong way round. me. and. you. were somewhere else. instead. some long way round from here. we both are. still. but not the same.

sometimes i feel like a wind-up toy. all sprung and taught. fighting forward into the folds of a corner. some wild memories of the life we could have lived. and then. torrential and flooding. they come. like the steady constancy of this rain tonight. on the other side of the kitchen window. of our lives. here. in england.

i am still congvinced, hand to angie dickinson, that a marmaset is a member of the 'noctuirnal rodent' family

(and now i have fallen out with my partner about what question whent whith which anser)

(but i'm still convinced i saw a wombat in germany --e ven though we got round 3 question 29 right because he said i'd only seen wombats in the zoo (PROBABLY))