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Friday, February 6, 2009

MANHATTAN: Towers of bamboo above suits Payton L. Inkletter’s Epiphyllum oxypetalum nicely, which flowered to(day)night: sometwo’s love is ripening!

Be all that as it may, meanwhile:

In other news…

06th February 2009:

Friday: I couldn’t safely surface till eleven, and began the gradual process of waking up and reentering the land of the living. My first job was unwelcome: I spent over half an hour emailing various ineptitudinarians in the United States of America at UPS and Paypal alerting them that they had just emailed me letting me know that my order of the shakuhachi flute adaptor was on its way, to one Lorie Bartron of Santa Barbara, California, instead of to moi in Perth, Western Australia. I hope they can sort it out quickly, otherwise what has the almost fifty bucks postage bought?: a slow boat to China?

I did some watering out the back before finally getting on my way to Bob’s, for the first time in two weeks, having not gone last week due to the (aborted) automatic transmission repairs down at Ultratune Toothpaste, the toon yoo can really fool, no, that’s me just being silly – the tune you can really taste!

Bob was glad to see me and go swimming, which was at the usual haunt, good old Swan Aquatic. I inadvertently got a belly laugh from Bob, which is rare (he laughs a lot, but hardly ever an uncontrolled outbreak of mirth), for when we were approaching Gray Drive from Morrison Road I got a surprise and shock to see the Midland Cineplex on the corner demolished, and exclaimed “They’ve knocked it down!” Bob exclaimed “Have they?” genuinely shocked himself, and added to the effect of “What’ll we do?” Then I got it: he thought I meant Swan Aquatic, and was in a flap about where he’d go swimming from now on. I burst out laughing, telling him about his mix up and declaring that surely he had just “touched cloth!”, which elicited a belly laugh from him, and it was a delight to witness this from my old friend who suffers from so much cognitive and social compromise.

Bob put in a good innings in the pool, and I read a fair bit more of Clive Hamilton’s The Freedom Paradox, getting deep into his metaphysics, and experiencing the growing certainty that he’s befuddled in this area (but who isn’t!), despite the excellence of most of what has preceded it in part one. While at the pool Margie Kismikkin of Balingup phoned on the mobble, looking for Janny, and asked if she could have a ‘hard’ copy on DVD of my audio of ‘Arcanum’, which I will do, but probably on two CDs come to think of it, for I know exactly how to make that work to play on any DVD player, while I’m not as sure about getting my audio to play from a DVD disc. We finished our day with the usual drive and then a cup of tea at Fishmarket Reserve followed by a walk along the river.

I was happy to get home, just in time for My Beloved and Stateline, before taking vittles around to Pa pree. I was mighty tired, but I forced myself outside to water and micro-fertilize and generally see to the myriad of summer maintenance jobs, including a back lawn mowing in the gloaming. I came in to watch Lateline on Aunty, and suffered through Shadow Minister for Finance Joe Hockey’s legendary puerile smugness and opposition for the sake of pure political point scoring in a discussion, moderated by Leigh Sales, who did a good job of moderating, with Minister for Finance Lindsay Tanner, whose composure, grace, and measuredness showed Hockey up for the oxygen starved at birth gorilla that he is prepared to behave like. And he is not alone on the opposition benches by a long stretch; this fact strikes me: there is so much tantrum spoilt boy and girlness in this Federal Opposition, it’s quite arresting and deserving of psychoanalysis. Get over it Liberals, you had 12 years and you lost the last election: you’ll win another.

I stayed on to watch the at times challenging ManstrokeWoman of the BBC, and after this turned telly off and got a bid done on the pooter, before turning it back on again to watch Letterman interview Isla Fisher. I thought Letterman was not as comfortable as he could have been, and I thought Isla Fisher was the more in control. Also it was nice to hear an Aussie accent, and a local Perth lass.

Again I was too exhausted to walk, which is a shame, for the evening was cool and ideal. I got to bed about two, and didn’t feel exactly normal, if that makes any sense given how abnormal my normal normally is.

Oh, and did I hear you ask if the Queen of the Night flowered? No, the bud just grew bigger, which technically puts the lie to this post's heading. I scheduled it a day ago, and gambled that the bud would open this night; oh well, life is imperfect, and faced with the choice of redoing the heading (simple enough) or leaving it be as a testament to the imperfectness of our level of reality and wishful thinking, I chose these latter.


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