Something new to say has become for the moment more urgent than substance, so I swim through amniotic brain fluid seeking novelties made of words, plain, sugared or chocolate. Baloney pan-fried in batter spatters nonsense on my keys, making me sneeze then snort a snoutful of snot in sneering, self-deriding annoyance, what nonsense! What crap! Fey fantasies flicker just out of sleight of hand, a new land beckoning with bright hazy coloured lights, how delightful the sight for a fraction of a fractal moment until grim grey reality once again settles its concrete bulk atop the plane of my brain.

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