Divine.

Dearest All,

I was so utterly moved, by your enthusiasm to celebrate little-old-me's day-of-womb-escape (aka birthday) that I, in my state of sugar induced euphoria I wrote a poem (expressing, my awe and gratefullness.)


I have a party island,

in my mind

and on it, I'd have you all -

Dancing, sitting, screaming (in glee)

With coconuts all around.

And on this island, I would exclaim -

"I feel Lov-ed.

Lov-ed I feel."

(I'd thank each one of you, with alot of shaking of hands

and give you all,

feathers pillows to rest your heads.)

=)


Love and no Foibles,

Bianca.

To Bitterness.

28th of February 2006 (the end of summer.)

Halfway through term one (of my final year of second-rate learning), breathing fine. A little spunky, trying to be spiff - zipping with the momentum of a new day (set off by alarms.)

Things that make me smile -

- Citrus marmalade.
- Computer beepy noises.
- Ripping off the green-plastic of newspapers on sunday mornings.
- Gladly stepping out the door.

Same Day. Different Sentiment.

Porridge and Comfort.

Porridge, with (soy) milk and honey are a must in every Bianca diet.

Porridge is a diabolical food. You can choose to chew or just to swallow. I prefer mine not watery, but lumpy with swirls of honey on top (I'm getting passionate now.)

(I'm reminded of an old-school exercise whereby one must try to begin every sentence with a new word. Most of the time, us lazy-folk would just interchange "The" with "This" and "That." I now, will employ the opposite of this - in tribute to Porridge - and use said lovely food as the beginning of each blessed sentence as of...)

Porridge is such as ugly looking food, but lovely non-the-less. i don't deny the vomiteqsue look about it, but I just think of baby birds enjoying some worms and Mum's saliva and it makes it all better.

Porridge bubbles. If that isn't amazing...

Porridge is old-school and beats cereal in the swank factor, however I do admit I went through (what seems now to have been a silly) fruit-loop phase where I was blown over with all the colours. Porridge, a creamy off-white (almost yellow with alot of honey) is simplistic yet elegant (in its vomitesque type-of-way.)

Porridge neither rolls of the tongue or sounds poetic, it's a blunt two syllabel word that has an almost authoritarian feel to it.

Porridge, contrary to popular practice, does not need a spoon in the consumption process - a cup will do (make sure the porridge has cooled down a bit.)

Porridge is so swank, it has a whole fairytale on it and other people/beings through history have loved it (as much as I do) they even molest little girls who tamper with their porridge.

Porridge, how you fill the void...

Socks to Rock.

Dear All,

Hope is indeed, feathery. I found it wild and caged it up. I feed it seed and water everyday.

Regards,

Bianca.

All For Four.

I can begin, by commenting on how I am. I'm well thanks.

Cherry Cheeks All The Rage.

Back from where I went, most certainly. Dandy as a Latin Bible. Wishing for less humid weather. If I were a beaver, I'd claim work on the dam is progressing well.

On a more troubling note, I no longer like green apples. They are too sour and I've worked out, never really sweet to begin with.

Next on the agenda: fullstops.

Like...NOW.

I would like to read a book where all the puncutation is spelt out for us fullstop That was it would definately comma bemore interesting and in short comma would challenge our ability to imagaine what a sentence looks like by reading it fullstop How neat would that be questionmark