Battered. Goats. Bruised. Monkeys.

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Sunday nights. Fun times. Numerous reasons. Need to postpone one thing in particular for as long as I can. Gibber on. Sunday nights. Time to look over the weekly to-do list. Usual. See what I managed to get done. Tick. What I did not do. Tut. Pity. X. Then write in random pointless stuff not on the list. But that I did throughout the week. Even things out. All aboot balance. All aboot fooling. For the past hour I’ve been trying to get one final thing ticked off before I go to sleep. Write an article for an Irish paper. Unfortunately. My brain has been distracted. Highly so. Waiting patiently. Waiting for them to show up. Bringing it with them. Distracting. As is. This imaginary goat. The one I can’t stop thinking about. Continue Reading »

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