She pokes her head out from beneath the long-term cone of silence. Elongates her neck warily. Her lips compress and her eyes assume a shrewd, narrow expression until she looks like a constipated turtle. Tentatively, she beings to type.
Or continues, rather. Whatever man. Stop suffocating my poetic licence.
Is my long-term absence in order of an explanation? Probably not. Reasons:
a) i don't exactly have a swelling fan base
b) who gives a shit
c) unnecessary and tedious preamble
d) i am Kate, Lady of the 673th realm. I need explain my presence or absence to none!
But i nonetheless feel compelled to, in part anyway.
At first, like a debutante into society, i thrust myself into the blogosphere. Young, fresh and fervent, i gushed out text like the oil that gushed out of the Gulf of Mexico Oil Spill. After a while though, i became suspicious, then horrified, then dismayed, then apathetic, then horrified again that, like the oil spill, it was all a horrid effluence and a gross mistake. The following posts became more and more self-referential, until they resounded with a pathetic plea of justification. Disgusted with my lack of topic expansion and imagination, my committment to my adolescent blog weakened. I grew disenchanted, and capped the spillage. And then forgot about it entirely.
...
Then it reappeared in my mind. I considered a reunion. But as the neglect deepended, i became more convinced that i was/am no longer up to the task. That over that long period of silence my cyber tongue has grown heavy and musty in my cyber mouth. That boorish seriousness has set in, etc.
But here i am! My pledge: to keep the tortuous tremor out of my voice.
Hem.
*finds amusement for a while in trying to squish a miniature surfboard across the computer screen and into the net. When venture fails, tries a spider.
That one failed too.
Wipes screen.*
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The world has transmogrified. Nothing is as it seems. I'm seeing strange creatures peering out behind the veil of humanity. Small mammals, actually. I'd idled into two separate lectures, slumped down on my seat, and looked up to see small marsupials wrapped in the deceptively pink and hairless skins of my lecturers.
I've decided against mentioning which units they teach. Some forms of paranoia are wise paranoias, i think.
One lecturer had an uncanny resemblance to a possum. A soft, brown and curly fuzz covered her head, and i found myself redesigning the drab screened background into a dark and leafy tree hollow within which she could tuck her round body. I didn't get so far as add a tail though.
Next, it was a mouse that blinked timidly up at me. He had a grey parcel of hair flopping neatly over a think face. Perched ona turned up nose were rectangular, metal rimed glasses, which he would push up with both hands at hte edges every now and again. A small mouth was drawn uder an enlongated upper lip, and on the sides two largish ears protruded with perfect semi-circular form. When he was speaking, his thin frame perched over the podium, he had an endearing pattern of looking down at his notes then dipping his head up and looking around at his audience imploringly.
Twas uncanny.
Anyhoo, such were my observational preliminaries to semester two.
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