Violins, electric guitars and Old MacDonald hammered on a big piano. Woke up this morning with Mensa Allen and LLL tazing my head. My friends, rolled into a ball surrounding me, working, stealing my nerves and racing my heart. Family using me [literally] as a punching bag, flailing to overturn bad fortune from years of falsely teaching the world and themselves [at least they were honest] via telepathy / grooming. What a morning! At least my Davidoff coffee tasted good again, not like the usual fried mushrooms … let it be, let it be? : /

… fooling with a baseball is _dangerous_. Pitching into a pillow on my bed, it rebounded off my radio, smashing my poor archery quiver like a stone. I’m not throwing it indoors again! I can imagine legions of Arab kids lining up for pitching lessons ; ) – something Donald overlooked?

… wrote a song about dreaming of chrysanthemums, using my new guitar knowledge. I bought some apps and they opened my mind to funkier rhythms, picking, and chord combinations. Meanwhile furry white monsters with sharp teeth are working … on minds drifting in American sleep.

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