h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Right, I woke up to find myself in a very strange place. On a mountain top with a lot of evil "dignitaries" here. I didn't like it; so I prayed, and now the Father appears to have rescued me.

It was raining yesterday and it's warmish and windy out today.

I have run out of fags.

Quite tired.

Necesse est mihi eam ducere. Voces dicunt eam me condemnare velle. Pourquoi avoir donne des dons si effectifs si je ne les utilise pas?

I want a pie.

Hypochondriac attention seeker competitive madness, yet she never makes a fool of herself on ML, only likes to tell everyone how mad she is, to make people think she's special and important. I know, because I've been through that as well, and grown out of it; my illness isn't anything to make light of, because it actually ruins my life. The worm inside me alienates people from me. It will take someone very strong, very special and very determined to come alongside me.

Now that Peet's gone, and his restraining hand, the moderators are having a field day. They've been champing at the bit for years to shut me up, and now they've found the perfect excuse. So I've written a post exposing the inconsistency in the concept of "tolerance" in general and in particular. I don't think they'll pass it. It speaks too much truth. Peet has been unwise in choosing mostly PC left-wingers and grudge-bearers in his moderation team, but there's nothing I can do about that. It seems that the gadfly that is Wilf has finally been silenced. Shame, because moderation should be objective, whereas this lot appear to be using their power to silence inconvenient people. Well, I hope they pass my post, because it's a truthful and accurate critique of tolerance.

Apparently she's bringing her devil-worshipping friends to Shem Elohim, and when I protested, she got angry; whereas my Christian friends "are not welcome" here.

Just who the feck does she think she is?

On the other hand, I will praise her beauty, which is heartbreaking. And her soft skin, and her clever eyes, and her glorious hair, about which Transvaal Afternoon could have been written. I love her sense of humour, and she loves mine. Her taste is music is unbelievable; she is a genuine musician, which of course I will love to appreciate. If my composing gift comes back I'll write her music, and of course most of my books will be dedicated to her. I know for a fact she's never been loved before, not really, so she will enjoy being loved unreservedly, passionately and unconditionally mind, soul and body. At last I shall have someone to shower with love who won't spit in my face afterwards (mentioning no names). In return she shall teach me not to be arrogant, proud and brutal towards people. She shall be my helper, my support. She and I will look fantastic cruising around Cape Town in Wilfie with the top down. All we have to do now, is wait for God to move.

Attentive readers might have noticed that there is a certain somebody in my life. They shall have to wait for the details to emerge.

I rebooted the router to try to get the network working, and now the router has assigned the study printer a new IP address, and I can't get it working for love nor money. And it was working fine before I rebooted the router! Well I spent all last night wrestling with the printer, and finally got it working, and I don't feel up to doing it again, so I'll do it perhaps tomorrow. It's definitely a night-time thing, getting printers to work.

I can't get my poor head around the fact that it's Saturday already today. Can't do it; it won't go. Can't get my head around that. How on earth did that happen.