Posted:8 Mar 2010 16:50 +0100
<p><strong><span style="font-size: larger;"><span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);">Wo die Neurosen wuchern, will ich Landschaftsgärtner sein -<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Element of Crime</span><br /></span></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-size: larger;"><span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);">(I want to be a landscape gardener where neuroses grow like weeds.)</span></span></strong></p><p><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size: larger;"><span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><strong>Well it is cold as heaven (hell is hot, ergo heaven must be cold, that's why angels disguise themselves as polar bears). The crocuses are probably not appreciating the divine climes, and shudder on seeing their breath freeze when they were so happily basking in the recent warmth, but nonetheless Spring is approaching. My house has reached an all time high on the pig sty front. The filth has acquired an advanced sense of pride which causes it to regenerate rapidly after annihilation. It must have learnt this from the trolls, for bite-covered, it rises from the dead. And I pity those who can detect the origin of that übernerdy reference. My clever dog trashed the place further the other day by dragging the tablecloth and its entire contents half way round the house, and I have begun to find myself grunting, snorting and getting lost on trips to other dimensions, ergo the filth mimicking trolls, er troll-micking filth. So what better time to brave the confused elements and inflict the final draft of my book on my unsuspecting publisher <a href="http://www.aj-books.com/">AJ</a>. After all, day follows night, so order must be born of chaos. Not that anything I write would involve order.</strong></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size: larger;"><span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><strong>So, Heart:Scatter:Logical is out of my delirious hands now, and hopefully not out to lunch with the person who abducted my brain yesterday during one of my dimension salad binges. When it returned, it claimed to have suffered a blackout, but reliable sources informed me it started imbibing red wine at lunch and was later seen embracing a pock-marked, Martini-swigging man in a postmortem crisis, who was clad in a fisherman's mac and exuding an olfactory aura of liver sausage and Sardinian Maggot cheese. I put my hands over my ears, shut my eyes and began to hum loudly when the informant threatened to continue relating these tragic events with onion relish. Hear no rebel, see no devil, smell no evil.</strong></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size: larger;"><span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><strong>Enough of my waffles. We have a</strong></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size: larger;"><span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Uta-Lotharingia/351614531575?v=info"><strong>fanpage</strong></a><strong>, a</strong></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="font-size: larger;"> <a href="../heart-scatter-logical"><strong>webpage</strong></a><strong>, and talking of pancakes, I think I will go and make some of them now. Can't get enough of them really.</strong></span></span></span></p>