Nearly
time to get in the car and go. Not enough time to get everything done before
that, but that is how it is. A small adventure of family awaits; time to stop
writing! Pack a notebook and a pen, scribble in a corner, a writer is an addict
of sorts, but if you neglect life, what to write about, eh, idiot? Step away
from the keyboard, come back when you have reportage! Outside the rain is blown
past the window, I imagine the droplets as looking surprised, being swept at
gale speeds. We are going for a barbeque… What to pack, other than a notebook
and pen? I don’t know what else, proof that I need to leave the house and try
talking to people before I forget how. Do I not love my family? Of course,
everyone loves my family, they are delightful, funny, generous, amazing people.
So why still typing? Okay okay, I’m nearly done here! Barbeque in a storm; it
will be fun, I know, it will be wet dogs trying to steal sausages and accidents
with ketchup. Time’s up!
There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud. A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout… Tea break time. There's a lot of words...


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:) :)