Worm Juice and Copulating Flies

I am at one with mother nature. So much so that insects like to do their business on me. I was holding a worm in the palm of my hand when I noticed it had secreted a yucky yellow liquid all over me. I couldn't tell you what the substance was I didn't see which end of the worm it came out of. Sitting at mum's today and she says "Hannah, there are two flies shagging in your hair", which I didn't mind until they fell out of my hair onto my biscuit.

Flies were the order of the day. Both mum and I swallowed one when we were out walking with the dogs. It was tremendously tickly. I thought I was going to cough out my spleen and mum said she felt her fly was doing ballet in her throat and she kept making noises like a cat does when it's hacking up hairballs. Mum stopped at a shop to get a drink and I suggested that ice cream would be a far superior remedy for fly inhalation.

We went to the monastery car park to eat our ice creams and do a spot of people watching. Mum remarked on the woman that walked by woth an army of children, "Wow, five kids, she's some doll....shit! The window's open". My mum is a careless people watcher.

Yesterday I fixed my washing machine. The pump was clogged full of blue tissue that had been in the pockets of my flatmate's trousers. There were a couple of times during the repair process that I thought I was going to have to call a man but then I realised that all the men I know are not the fixing washing machines type of men so I just got on with it myself. One more week and one more day at work and then it's Roadtrip time :)

Write On

I am completely unsure about what to write about. Do I write to make pople laugh, 'cause that's what I like to do? Do I bare my heart and soul because I want to show the world who I truly am and encourage others to be who they truly are? Do I write about Ziggy because he is the closest thing I have to a baby and I'm so proud of him? Do I write about my hopes and dreams because I like to remind myself that I have hopes and dreams? Do I write about my shortcomings because I have those too? Do I write about love because I know it so well? Or do I write about the lack of love because the world's fucked up? Do I write a poem about sticky glue and cherry scones? Or do I write a story about a worm crawling up a cheese hole and dancing in a summer frock? Do I write because I want to? Or because I need to? Or because I'm scared if I don't I'll forget who I am? I don't know. I just write. I write when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm lost and confused. I write when my heart leaps with joy and when it sinks to the pit of my stomach. I write when I'm sure and when I'm not so sure. I write to feel ok, to gain clarity, to release and to empower. I write for freedom and strength and to digest my thoughts. I write for comfort, and solace and peace within myself. I write to connect, with myself and with others. I write because the words hold me up when I feel like falling down.