Veni, Vidi, Ventus --
The randomly chaotic and crafty scribblings of a deranged, wannabe artist allowed too many colours in her Crayon box.

Surgeon General's Warning: Some content of "From Pooka's Crayon" may not be suitable for: work, blue-haired little old ladies, the politically-correct, rabid moonbats, uptight mothers, priests, chronic idiots, insurance claims agents, Democrats, children, small furry quadropeds from Alpha Centauri, or your sanity.

Saturday, January 19, 2002

Out of Context

Still awake.

Fingernails are still flamable.

Mice can hang upside-down for extended periods of time. This appears to do no damage whatsoever to their little mousey brains -- they're still as utterly butt-stupid on return to your regular upright position.

Carpet should not be kitty toilet paper.

Oh look! Carbon paper!

Tootsie Roll power, such a chocolatey chew.
Tootise Roll, I think I'm in love with you.

"He doesn't wear a zoot suit!"

"It's true. If I really cared, I'd dress like a dead man, too."

For every leap forward, we take three steps back. Progress is only an illusion. Evolution is a curious lie. Now we walk forward into the late past, regressing from humanity to be boiled down into the most primal primitive beast to walk the earth. Violence is not a solution, it's a symptom.

If your life was to accrue finance charges, would you still be in the black?

My Christmas tree is still up. For at least one shining evening, All was calm and Bright with the world. Removal of the tree is a sad task, one I never eagerly embrace.

I think I want to be young again. I'd need different parents, of course, but I want things to be simple. I'd like to have no more to worry about than what jeans go with which sweater, what flavour lipgloss I really liked, who was dating who, and getting homework done.

There's a new Eeyore PEZ dispenser out. I want it. I haven't seen Pooh or Piglet or Tigger, just Eeyore. He's cute. I like my Eeyore.

Still can't find the top to my Eeyore PJs.

Sometimes, you really just don't want to swallow.

Isis is an Isis is an Isis. Loves her, yes we do.

Movie trailer tonight. They've remade "The Time Machine." Lots of remakes these days, Ocean's Eleven, Planet of the Apes, Time Machine, other movies I can't possibly remember the titles to because I'm a doofus. A trend? Sign of more troubled times, searching desperately for some anchor in a sea of insanity.

The moose on the bookshelf is looking at me funny.

"This retro thing is pretty silly. I mean, I'm wearing a snood."
"I was trying not to notice."

Mmm, fun foam. Fun foam. Yessire, I'm having Fun now.

Maybe my life is little more than a cheaply built grafitti wall.

"You gotta help me make a stand.
You just got to see me through another day.
My body's achin' and my time is at hand.
I won't make it any other way."

Sybil is starting to make very scary noises. I'm afraid they're hinting at a meltdown to come. It's a weird low hissing gurgling sound from around the processor/fan side, kinda like the noise soda (especially ginger ale) sometimes make after the bubbles have clung to the sides and then spontaneously broached the surface.

I'm having difficulties with my Ks and Gs. Perhaps they are trying to tell me something.

Black Hole

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