I saw, out of context, on someone’s facebook page the words ‘Shall we go to the lily pond?’ ‘I’m not dressed right for the lily pond’ which were such wonderfully surreal sentences that I had to write them down and expand on them for future use. I have little text files like this all over my mac.

[I]Shall we go to the lily pond?

We don’t have a lily pond.

Everyone has a lily pond.

Well, we don’t.

The lily pond. At the bottom of the garden.

By the trees?

The lily pond by the trees, yes.

I’m not dressed properly for the lily pond.[/I]

You’re half an LSD pill away from a Lewis Carrol poem there.

Chucho Valdes is f’ing awesome. Why hadn’t I heard him before?

Oh, right, the damned embargo.

Really? It was the courtroom trauma that lead me to hate dolls.

Not a chance; all of those are actual English words.

Not enough mimsying borogroves!

(Disclaimer: I love Lewis Carrol and Jabberwocky rocks my socks.)

“Carroll”

“Reverend Charles Dodgson.”

Walked into a spider web and sorta got a spider in my mouth this morning.

Shit sucked.

I need a name for my sourdough starter.

Oh man, I watched a movie when I was a kid that legitimately created my phobia of dolls. Your comment made me Google it for the first time.

http://www.google.com/images?q=demonic%20toys&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=og&sa=N&hl=en&tab=wi&biw=1503&bih=635

:(

Sometimes it just writes itself.

Freelancing sucks ass.

That is all.

It’s a lot easier once you get out of your starter ship.

Being a really efficient smoker is now helping me to quit. Not one fucking ashtray in the house has a half smoked cigarette in it.

You go Buceph! I’m sure you know an awful lot about quitting, all I can lend you 28 years after I did it is… it does get easier and the hardest time is now and for the first few weeks.

Break it down and take it day by day, moment by moment, that you don’t have to smoke, right now (that part, of course, borrowed from another quitting program we all know well).

If you can make it through that succession of moments and days, things will come back into your life that are your just desserts, your rewards (returning sense of smell and taste, you won’t be SOB (well, you might a a son of a … but you will be less short of breath!)).

Maybe you could discard those frikkin’ ashtrays entirely, as an ex smoker, do you need the reminder?

Find ways to reward your good behavior too, nothing wrong with a reward here and there while you make it through the hardest part (it is a bayitch, there is no doubt).

I have had the same nine Jonathan Coulton songs playing on a loop for two days.

This is probably not good for what is currently masquerading as my sanity.

The postman arrived, but didn’t bring the package containing No Country for Old Men and Dark City on Blu-Ray that I’d been waiting with baited breath for since I got up.

This is a bad day indeed.

Oh would you like to swing on a star?

If I don’t get word back regarding this mortgage pre-approval soon I’m gonna freak out.

I’ve still never seen Dark City all the way through. I normally fall asleep about a half hour in.