We are not what we think we are. The working week ended on a markedly foolish note and destroyed my plans for the weekend. And now this glorious Sunday morning while reading from the book of ramanujan poems, feeling i'm giving the delivery of a lifetime, bigsis tells me i'm overdoing it. laying it on too thick this poetry back to back. ingrate she should know she is. my bookclub is not shaping as it should have and thinking of putting up an ad and posters. Desperate to learn swedish and move to Upssala because its as deserted as it gets. sea of keyed-in humanity has left me no wiser and informed just marooned higher than when i came. to want space cannot be asking for much. missed all lib dates. what is my fine?