Right now I am alone, in the middle of Auckland city, on a Saturday night. My friends are not coming for another two hours. I spent an hour in Borders, then got fed up and my head was full of poetry and frustration so I left.
I discovered that the worst place to look for the meaning of life is the poetry section in a bookstore. I had the most epic explanation for it at the time.
Sometimes I hate bookstores
I don't know what to read
I don't know what is bad and good
or what is worth picking up
I don't know where to start
Then I went searching for a moleskin. I feel like a retard just saying that, because it sounds like I'm trying to be some wannabe Hemingway or something. Na they just feel nice and are slim and I had nothing to write on. But Mag Nation was closed and I don't know who else sells them.
I always forget to carry a notebook. Then I end up buying 1B4s.
I then got kissed by an old fat man wearing a white chef's coat and a billboard and some green goggly? glasses. He then tried to dance with me in a convenience store.
This was a most pleasant experience.
He had directed me (his billboard had) to the White Lady which is a giant bus-thing that sells burgers. He even escorted me there 'cause there were some dodgy sorts around.
It is raining. What excites me is that my feet are not wet. I can see the raindrops sitting on top of my black leather slippers. This is because I own BEESWAX which is BEAUTIFUL and makes my shoes soft and rainPROOOF
Friendship has been bothering me. I know my life is going to be nomadic. Already I feel like my life is in limbo, living in a city that is not my home, and leaving for a place that is not my home, and leaving and leaving and leaving
Is that all I do? Leave? Never stay? I was always the wandering one. And how does that work with friendship? I enjoy people. When I meet people who I can talk to, who get me, it is amazing.
It is a good thing I enjoy my own company. I do spend a lot of time wandering Auckland city by myself and I
enjoy bus rides
Today in the bookstore
a man and a women
were talking about how they were worried their son
would ONLY KNOW THE LETTER D
Who is Sonya?
Sonya is someone who knows too many letters and whom consequentially needs to write excessive numbers of blog-posts to regularily pour them out of her head into words, using these words to form recognised (and unrecognised) forms of prose and poetry, and to use them to ask questions, as above.
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