To do, to do, to do………

HELLO. Here I am. (“Here I am! Where’s The Spill?!” exclaims the brain-echolalia, covering the place in imaginary paper towels).

Did you ever watch ‘Get Your Own Back’ where there was a game on there with giant foam toast and people had to crawl through a toast grid breaking all the toast-boards, and it used to look like it was so satisfying, or at least made a satisfying sound? Well I’m in the mood to do that, apart from, walls hurt your body parts because they don’t want to play, I do not recommend. Unless you have a toast-board… or toast-walls… in which case it’s probably okay. Instead, I threw my face (and the rest of the body it’s attached to) into a big pile of stuff which I just took out of the dryer, which was quite good – it was warm – but, it wasn’t the imagined toast board so obviously it didn’t make the noise I keep expecting to EXPERIENCE. toasty).

After hours of clapping, swinging things around and shaking about for all the times I didn’t when asked to do the oaky koaky (is that even the word? this is going to be like that song lyric thing, isn’t it, where it’s something really obvious and I’ve just heard it as ‘koaky’… OH I just googled it and I’m laughing – it’s Hokey Cokey, apparently. Nothing oaky about it. It’s also bringing back terrible memories of small-child-me feeling pressured to do the same movement as everyone else on demand – never was one for audience participation. or any participation… when made to feel aware of the Participation Part, anyway). ANYWAY – – – I can’t remember the end of that sentence because my attention span is




My rucksack looks like a happy axolotl
(or one gasping for breath)
(a bit like me swimming last month)
(before I discovered how much goggles help me breathe even though I do not breathe with my eyes)

You know those rugs you get – well, which you CAN get – of fake animals lying on the ground, as a rug? well I’ve been impersonating one of those, in between sudden bursts of getting up to spray some SURFACE CLEANER on a chosen bit of surface and wiping it to keep the monsters away. It doesn’t keep any monsters away. or maybe it does and I just don’t know it, because They are Away.

I wish I had a swing. Why don’t I have a swing? well, there’d be nowhere to put it so having one would be useless but, I wish I knew a swing. Why don’t I know a swing? The last time I found a swing I noticed the sign that said I wasn’t supposed to be there unaccompanied (because I didn’t have a child with me) and then I was too scared to go back there in case the SwingPolice took away my swing-rights, for not being accompanied by a child. Number 1 reason for having a child: TAKE ME TO THE LAND OF SWINGS
actually no, I don’t think I want to go to that land as there’d probably be too many people and a high swing-collision probability, but, just one swing would be excellent

OK BACK TO THE TO DO LIST TO DO TO DO TO DO.

and on that note, whilst I’m on this note, before I go to write the other note – Here’s something I wrote a few days ago and FORGOT TO PUT HERE.

Sumita +.+



To do, to do, to do………

to do, to do, to do……… to do it I’m falling.

I feel like I’m taking on the world and failing. and I’m not. I’m not taking on the world, it’s only an assignment. and I can’t fail it before I’ve done it, and I haven’t done it, so I can’t be failing. to do, to do, to do, to do, to do………. am i failing doing it, by failing to do it? to do it I’m falling.

I’m tinier than a dead star. I’m tinier than that dead rock-debris fragment that I can’t see in the sky. I am more insignificant than dust. but dust travels. and like dust, any significance i do have travels. and if I can guide the direction it travels in, then I have to care. or I don’t have to, but I have to choose to. or I don’t have to choose to, but I maybe want to? because, there isn’t a because. (BECAUSE OF THE WONDERFUL THINGS HE DOES!, screams the inner-brain-echolalia, into the absence of done things.)

I need to write more lists – nothing is getting done around here. ‘THAT’S SOMETHING!’ shouts a sugarclown. I thought I told them to leave after they insensitively laughed at my baby dream and punched me in the stomach. I squash its tiny plasticine face and lick the candyfloss out of the sky – today we shall be grey-flavoured. I like grey. ‘I don’t’, mumbles a squashed sugarclown, but I’m not listening to its whiny non-joke, they were squashed ages ago. UNSQUASH YOURSELVES, commands the orange-juice-escapee sun, having runway from the recycling-press from the juice-box it was homed on. What do they know, they were 2D in the first place. and what does that make me? I close my eyes and try to sense my ghost-D presence more presently. Nope. Still stuck in future or past limbo, or some sort of amalgamation of the two. I must resume the future-past. I must do to be, and be to Be, and be to do, but mostly Be – not do to do to do to do to do. I fall but I’m supposed to. I be because I am. how else am i supposed to? how else would i do? not being would not do, for me. yet here i am, neither be nor do. Time to fix that. OPERATION ENERGY CONVERT!

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