Sitting in an English garden

Blogging seems to come up as an invariable point of interest and necessity whenever I ought to be doing something productive (like figuring out the question or doing the bit of work that will bring my grand total of earnings for this coming week up to $15). Unfortunately, as has been previously discussed, I seem to have little to say other than that I have little to say which becomes redundant after a while, even to me (although it is so much more enjoyable if you read this with a British accent because that is what my thinking voice sounds like right now).

When considering my recent activities, I thought perhaps I could blog about Tyrese (or Tyrhys or Tyrees(e)…the spelling of his name may still be a point of contention), the lovely blue walrus in whose company I spent several hours yesterday. But really there is very little profundity to be gleaned from the experiences of Tyrese and Co.  And I like to have some purpose to my writing (*ding* – lightbulb. Perhaps therein lies the source of this mysterious lump I have been so blindly stumbling upon lately).

But really, life is hardly always (or even often) profound, so perhaps I should just go merrily along and enjoy the sunshine when it’s out.

In other news (which is arguably one of my favorite phrases – not literarily, but it does work so well as a transition), I am currently reading Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses and finding his style quite enjoyable.

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