Ouch

Ape is gone and all is darkness. Proof of the darkness was earlier today provided by tiny, who were convinced that the sole reason Spotify was malfunctioning was because Ape had left the country. And me, I've been forced to socialize with people who aren’t Ape. It proved difficult. Yesterday night, an *acquaintance* approached me and, apropos of nothing:

- You damn imperialist swine!
- What…? I thought we were friends!?
- That’s only on Facebook.
- Oh.

Gone fishing.

I will go away today. I am going south and I will be back sometime in August. You will probably flourish while I’m gone. See the world in another light. Maybe it will seem brighter. Eventually, you might even think that I’ve been smothering you and you will begin to dread my return. But know this! No one sees you like I see you. People love you, no doubt. But I look at you and I see diamonds, I see clusters of stars brightly shining and I dare bask in the beauty of it. Cut me out and you are left a mere mortal; ignore me and you black out a part of yourself.

Miss me, as I shall miss you.

Finally, do not listen to people with split tongues. Their words are not exactly lies, but nor can they possibly speak the truth. And for God’s sake: floss, even though it’s summer. Libidoly speaking, tooth decay is a hundred times more destructive than a split tongue.

That is all.

No, wait, a donkeymentary. The "Mr Bush" featured in the clip once hired J to work as a chicken dealer and is currently a member of the parliament.

An era has come to an end.

Moa died two days ago. The stupid dog who ate too much, puked too often and smelled badly. The dog who hated other dogs, were suspicious of people and only a couple of months ago attacked and sunk her teeth into a harmless Golden Retriever. The dog who always took my spot on the sofa at the kitchen table. The dog who spent her summers on her back, bronzing her belly in the sun. The dog who I taught tricks and ran around and played with.The dog who’s been around for more than half my life. The dog who I respected and loved more than I will ever do any other dog.

For once, I did not reproach Whedon for making a seventh season of Buffy. There is death, tears, dog death and general misery. I watched nine episodes in a row and cried myself to sleep.

I’m okay, but I miss her.

I only like unicorns because of Tom Cruise

And because they don’t poop, like the other horsies.

The thing I wanted to say was thank you Lola for the scarves. I love them very much, and more and more for each hour. Their fabric is soft and their pattern is pleasing. I was going to paint me a nice and sturdy unibrow to go with my creation, but decided against it. I have great fear of unibrows, and being mistaken for someone who loves unibrows. Being taken for someone who likes to play with stereotypes is a lesser fear. Knowing me, one would think that truth scares me, but that’s only part true.

challa challa, as you run toward the sun, my child