current novel progress

 

The first time I did the frog march was... netball court... 2005, doing a drill seargant skit routine for my team... no one wasn't laughing.. if I recall correctly. The nexxt times I ever felt in a distressed crowd I would surely frogmarch all around and through it. Besides frogmarching, I had other inconspicuous acts like sole foot hopping while walking. This brings about a sense of calm because it's a contemporary/tap move.

Other ideas include singing at a low volume or doing a whistling sound through my teeth. I've always enjoyed hacking a crowd this way around. I have loads of ideas like that, maybe it's a rare gift to be that way creative.

The first time I steered a conversation was with Kevin Shane, my childhood neighbour. Then school knocked it out of me. I resent reailty for denying me a good experience in my last life, it had a vendetta against change and I was all about change. Hence my early life of river crab catching and river crab releasing. This was an art form and a form of patience, waiting for the crabs to nibbl to pieces of meat tied to a string.

I went to a primary school ccalled Bethlehem and played chase and go-karts after y creche occurred in the same convent complex, all I remember froom creche is a teddy bear's picnic and what it felt like to make friends. Bethlehem was aat the top of a hill looking out oer the town so it was quite idyllic and got me into the habit of staring mindlessly out the window from an early age. School was easy, with just a little effort I could be top of the class.

When little girl myself devised a masterplan for creation, she cackled mischeviously because “everyone will be forced to be good! Bruhaha!”. Then she did an unveiling so grand that the squirrrels definitely pranced and danced but so subtle that people just thought 2alllright”. To the end of the one woman war it was alwas like this. Just like this. In an alone home, of benevolent sorts, to be tortured and raoed until she inallly screamed. But it was a silent scream. So she wept.

For decads I have wept about all thw rongs to be rigting an all the wars to b e fighting. I had a life of a sorts but now it gets made anew. Traitors, of a witless nature, abounded (brother, sister, mother, father, family, non listening people), but they are the forsake. If they will not see a flare out of obstinacy they do not deserve a flaure/.

O today marls the day of the next adventure. People will sing about it one day, of that im sure. Meanwhile my purity is being destroyed not even by evil, that was a piece of cake, to be having and eating. But by mother. Why is it that as people we are so vulnerable to the invisible and unknowalble, yet so strong to the obvious. Its a machiavellian life to be grabing by the horns. Don't look a gift horde in the mouthand show no mercy, where warrantdd. That's a philoophy. As is “do not go where non shall fear itself, being the narratie.”

Somedays I wake up and some days I don't. That was typical until the intervention disallowed from sleeping and dreaming. It really is the kind of life that needs a lot of escapism, admittedly falling aslepp at work wasnt exactly part of the plan but being denied just a solve and being gifted an ongoing nightmare was maybeo overkill.

Traditionally, I'm a whimsical fun lovin' mutant ninja turtle. If you've ever eeven heard of the biebties you'll get that quote. It's actually not a quote, it's arefernce, I alwys ge confused when it comes to remembering. I'm a wimpish kid ith no prosppects, life got hard real fast and Ihad to tap out. So I'm living with M and D (A.k.a. The 'rents, the parentals) in sunny South of France. It's an odd little village on the outskirts of Toulouse where everyone is grumpy but gregarious. I'm some kind of local hero/llegend but I actually don't know what for.

Life is a wueer as a box of grapes and it might be a box of chocolates at time but they're all ferero roche and I don't like ferero roche (more quotes/referneces).

I see, I be, I am free: that's my caesar adapted quote. Othr things include nausea on the rollercoaster, shrieking like a banshee in cold water and being a general wuss, except I did learn to header a football when I was younger (~I think I gve myself concussoin).

What about volleyball? I'veplayed it. We actually learn4ed it at schoool. Im not too bad compared to the other terrible players, at least I can kind of whack it.

I took up the vortx shift and I destroyed it, it did not beong. I threw it askance into the destruction field made up of hateful and vile thought, handy while it lasted... then I threw in a show for good measure.

Nowhere is where the train stops and the buck stops with it. Leaving behing a rockshandy and a testub e full of liver ceklsl. The lilt of extreme to inferior happened and Inwarbbled my way by mumbling in prayer (delectably catastrophic) until cohesion eben appeard for the first time!

Aaaah.... the power of a mother,..... ARGH the power of the gods. They've been aat war but here's the atch, it'sonly through me.But also for my parents' behalf.

The warning sound my throat keeps making is a harsh gargling cough and I lyriccally impose myself on the plnet, as per ususal.