Of couse, I am not a nature person. I don't like to think about outside much less frolic in it. But it strikes me that my sanity does, and when ever I go back to waipuk *poof!* there goes my sanity off for an extended romp around the contryside with all its birds and bees and butterfly trees.
Now, back in wellington with my mind back in the, if tenous, grip of my sanity, I can clearly see, looking over the last few posts, the downward slope my mind takes when I am left to my own devices for any amount of time. And I wasn't even working.... it is unfortunate then, because of my apparent undesirability to the opposite sex, that after all this studying and so forth my chosen life path shall lead me into a single apartment somewhere wher I shall be spending most of my time writing in rooms with the blinds drawn, sipping vodka from a wine glass. It is a scary thought when you consider how much I can get unhinged in a weekto extrapolate that into the future...
Fortunately, crazy sells books. Just look around you. All the famous writers were either depressed, drunk, or doing the addictive substances fandango. And all of them were crazy. With this trend in mind, I think I am going to be an uber-author, the kind that has not been seen since the time of Dryden. Oh yeah. Flan nee Dryden. Of course, im not marring the guy, just appropriating his muse. I dont think you need a civil union for that.
Ok, so perhaps over emphasised the grip my sanity has on me. Did you know that in america there are toads the size of coconuts?
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