She says "Moon cup... Best way forward" Then I declare, "No! The best way is spring lamb's tails. Because, the souls of the lambs, are held in the tails of the tiny lamby-lambs, and when you put them over your foof, they climb inside and stroke the eggs, gently whispering 'don't come out! stay inside shh. shh. little mouse.' And the period stays in."
She's still there beside me, but frowning.
"Urgh. I would sooner go ass to mouth, than eat porridge."

Debate: Can the John Lewis website – Home ware section, be girl porn?
There is no difference. No difference between man-gurning, "oooh yeah, Gooooo-on you dirty bitch, stick it in" to any of the majority of websites on the WWW. Neither, a female shaking her hands and becoming flushed at the sight of a bright red whisk, smooth slender saucers, and the svelt lingering lines of a fresh young chopping board. It's just gender differentiation. But! Hark, one is right, the other is wrong. Moral nor immoral. Which is more sinful? Which is consumerism? Which one exploits our impulsive urges? I don't know because I'm conditioned that way not to suggest which is wrong, which is why I present the subject to you the reader. I have no opinion but yours.

They say the past catches up with you. Even if you don't do, nor say. You just 'appear' to someone else to be a cunt. That alone is substance enough to provide future recriminations, especially if they take over the pub next door and block your car in 'because they can'. And what can you do, but hope for a little happiness in their lives.
Peace.
p.s I pepper sprayed myself by accident today, then went for a wee.

Where does the 800lb Gorilla sit?
- Anywhere it fucking wants to.
There are things that can't be understood. Things that allow us to be free, yet at the same time, damage the world around us. Beauty can be covered in thorns. Asking for transparency in the world is a hopeful proposition, yet it is the natural human ability to plaster over our scars and fallibilities that affects all around us at a later time. Some people get lucky, and manage to disguise their errs. Others are not so fortunate.
My world is a dark fairy-tale. Filled with beauty and kindness, kisses and affection, charity and love. But also sadness and counselling, hope and worry. Walking on eggshells is how it seems. When you're looking round as you close the cupboard door, with worry that it may not be closed correctly. Or wincing, and mentally asking the vacuum cleaner to suck more quietly because you feel it's going to get you in trouble. Or, scratching your head in confusion when you are requested not to call the plumber when the boiler has broken and it's -3 outside, and doing so will bring scowls or tears or rage.
When do you hold the right to ask questions? Is it when your grief and unhappiness is caused when you feel asking questions is required? I don't know. Tears and tantrums. I don't understand instability. Yet, I'm afraid to ask about the elephant in the room, on the grounds that it may place me in the mire. I've got to wait for the cards to be dealt, truth to be presented, bottom to be hit. The middle road that leads you to your little sail boat, alone in the big choppy ocean. Steer against the crashing waves and you will make it to dry land. That dry land may be an island that has no sustenance. All you can eat, but sand and salt water. Don't ask! How dare you ask! Don't do it! Shut up! Leave it! Stop! Go! Don't! No! No! No! And all you're trying to do is pour a cup of tea.
What am I doing wrong, that's not within my own situation, limitations and capabilities?
Walking on eggshells.
There's an alephant in the room.

Well, that was an interesting walk. Up in the hills waist deep in snow wondering if it's pointless to turn back....Then, seeing an old old man trying his best to get his car out of the snow on a secluded country lane, shaking, and worrying. "At it f'ura bout an hour ay'av" he says, behind steamed up glasses and cateracts. He starts wandering around in a daze outside his car not really knowing which way is west, and I hold his arm and ask him to sit in his car. I don't think he knows what 'car' means anymore. So I sit him down in warmth, and walk up to the nearest farm and ask the farmer to help tow him out with his tractor "Uhhh f'ur God'sayke. Luke. I'm knot 'elpin anuther sod ewws stupid to drive therr carr down they-er." So, I call the police and ask them to pick him up. "We're on our way now Sir. Can you sit with the old man until the offisahs arrive?" So, I sit with 84 year old Jim, and his Alsation talking about career, loss, and the state of the weather. We both agree that driving in this weather is a shit idea. And he's shaking a bit less now. The offisahs arrive, and "We'll handle this from here, on your way son.." I depart in the dark and wonder why they are such, well, not very good at building public relations. And i'm home. And thinking about the view I looked down at, and the train ride I have tomorrow, and the gran visit, and the Christmas films i'm downloading, and the, and the, and the...... My feet are cold and wet and I need a shower.

Aaaaaand, yet another great weekend. We ate good food, drank fine wine, danced under the moonlight, and danced gaily through the park, kicking crisp leaves as we went. Murphy owns me, Hannah and her magic hands own me too. We erected things: Doors, pictures & curtains. Tossed numerous others: boxes, paper & glass. We fucked and fucked and fucked.
I cooked Vegetable curry, then Chicken dinner with roasted vegetables, mash and gravy. I want it again. I want her chicken dinner everyday.
Sigur Ros & comfortable couches are a sure way to help you sleep soundly on a Sunday.
London rain falls heavy and out of nowhere. Maybe it was on the horizon, but we were just looking at something else much more lovely.
Kinda shat myself meeting the folks. But they're funny and slightly eccentric which gets the thumbs up from me. Mr Webster also makes me giggle. He loves his daughter very much. Apparently, i'm not allowed to shower with their daughter. But i'm working on that.
It's almost the end of No-Shave November, and I can almost, almost chop it off now.

Everything that you thought valuable I wanted to destroy.