paranoid schizophrenia, pigeon flavour.

November 12, 2010 § 2 Comments

 

i gave my public international law exam today. there were a pair of idiot pigeons (is there any other sort?) in the exam hall, so my answer paper is seventy percent pigeon-feathers by weight.

in other news, apparently the Companies Bill, 2009 is now going to be the Companies Bill, 2011.

which means of course that all the deeply analytical projects that have been submitted on the companies bill are good for a couple more cycles. man, those projects have really been around the block; i mean they’re practically smoking gold flakes and flashing cleavage now.

so, i’m, like, in law school. and we’re, like, not very principled. so, like, sue me.

but please don’t, i’m sort of impoverished.

(a pigeon has taken up residence in the toilet! is it too much to ask for an anxiety-free poop?)

songs usually come in, create a mood, tell a story, and pick up and walk away while you’re still feeling the mood but have no words to fill the vacuum with but your own. so you fit your stories to other people’s tunes. when you do it often enough it becomes predictable, and leads to playlists with titles like ‘sleep’ and ‘happydance’.

(pigeon here!)

the only exception is this. this does not fit on any playlist, and is usually played on its own.

it’s funny that you would never listen to music that did not provoke an emotion in you, and still think less of it for doing so.

and by you i mean me. of course.

(pigeon there!)

since it’s been all of twenty four minutes since i mentioned the weather, may i say that we’re having monsoonal evenings and wintry nights. and that i am not only confused, but also excited. shall i wash my woollens? will they dry? could it be time for (oh my god) gloves, yet? i think, i think i’ll tempt the gods today… i’m going out in a fleece shirt!!!ELEVEN!!!

we sure do love liviiiin’ on the edge, son.

in a week i will be joining the parentals and devilspawn sibling at the old homestead.

(everywhere is pigeon! pigeon!)

when people tell me they’ve lived all their lives in one house, i wonder if they realise what a miracle it is to be able to point to grimy palmprints under a switchboard and say, see, i used to live here even back when i was too short to reach the fan switch.

 

old age is fast approaching.

 

i wonder if my bodhi tree is cleverly disguised as a pigeon.

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