One in the Hand, Two in the Bush.

Your halfpenny eyes, they smile like a fire-sale. Everyone's a suspect, the horses won't move up the rail.

When I die I want "Keep The Light On" by The Whitlams to play at my funeral. It is a beautiful song, and it will sum things up nicely. In the meantime I'll continue to appreciate it in life rather than death. You should too, jitter-bugs.

And I am back, it seems. We shall see for how long. Hopefully a sustained period of prolificacy; a golden age of my words. Ho ho, quite. That is such an English saying: "quite"... quite, quite, quiet down, motherfucker. In any case, I will be endeavoring to make this more frequent.

I'm not gone for good, F. I was only making you think so.

My days at present are largely pedestrian... or not quite even that fast I suppose, given my lack of walking ability. I am ready to have my legs back so I can go and peruse the pleasant spring climate. All the buds are coming out and the world looks more colourful than it did this time last year. This cannot be coincidence. The ticking of the time is inextricably linked with this fiercely bright season. We're almost out of the hole.

I've never fallen in love with spring before. I guess I have more time to appreciate it this year. It is prettier than I'd given it credit for. All those hackneyed spring-poems and odes to the months of new-borns had me skeptical. I suppose we are all converts to things we once failed to believe. That is the nature of the open-mind.

I'm a dime-store philosopher.

But that is enough for now. I need to get to sleep. Meaningful rest is such a pleasure. Even sleeping every night on the uncomfortable couch is better than the lack of sleep I have suffered in the last 18 months. Rest easy, pearls.

Do you wish money grew on trees?