when i write my blog i never know what i am going to write, nothing is changed, it just flows out and becomes whatever it is.
i never go back or edit, sometimes i'll get a strange feeling that i need to save it as a draft and return to it later, but that very rarely happens, but here's one i found saved as a draft so it's a few months old. i'm not sure why i didn't post it...

i had a day, a strange day, it lasted all day. firstly i didn't wake up, nope i was already up, so i guess the day starts with a dinner date, not a romantic one but a very nice one with my friend wilde childe whom actually bought me dinner. yeah after deciding cheap and cheerful, and given a choice of three, i chose the most bewildering one i'm sure.
its good to see wilde childe she's my friend, helped me move home, often drives me to church gigs, fellow actor in an infamous david neil video (no, it's not porn), next door neighbour at the best live concert ever down the front row, witness to steve kilbey's solo gig in a secret room in a fancy restaurant and also co-guest at steve's induction to the greatest songwriter in multiverse by some official organisation, we sat with mr kilbey and his lovely family, i was stupidly overwhelmed by everything, a complete fish outta water but so happy to see him get some recognition from people much more important than me. 
and wilde childe and i both felt like we could die now, i mean it was special but it's not a romance. so sorry to disappoint my readers. i'm a romantic guy, after all i'm in love with the universe. but, wilde one is a very very good friend. so we meet, i been reading my gothic canadian novel in a coca shop and the restaurant is next door, we experience the cold wind for a few seconds and then in the large restaurant we chat to the waitress, well i'm ordering bok choy and fried rice and vermicelli rice rolls, wilde one orders tofu and vegetables and boiled rice.
i can't recall what we spoke about, something about her having to deal with offshore call centres and how our words were being distorted and how long the conversation takes, etc.
anyways the waitress serves me up my broccoli and garlic and i'm genuinely confused because i was talking to her about how much i love bok choy when i ordered it, i was telling her how it's incredible china kept it hidden from the world for so long, it's my fave vegetable and she was replying saying how nutrition and healthy it is. so i was confused but in my true nature of toaist monk i embraced it and it was fantastic. 
so we had a lovely evening and then i went to work, where i had to write a huge report that took all night, on the way home i stop to see mohammed, not that one but my hair guy who gave me an excellent hair cut, uses a cut throat. when i first met him i looked like a terrorist, he asked me straight up, are you a terrorist? you gotta respect that i guess, anyway he does a good shave and he's cheap and i like him. 
so at home i feed my fish and exhaust my dog pan, who wisely lays in the sun for the rest of the day. i'd like to but i have an appointment with a air con man whom arrives and starts checking for mould. 
now i don't like mould, i always freak out when i think about it, the alien nature. there's something creepy about it, it's strange as it's also quite beautiful, the way those spoors leave the body, it's science fiction right? 
anyways the guys freaking me out as he wanders around testing the environment, yeah it's true mission control needs more ventilation. he puts his device upon my skin, it indicates i'm 87% water, what's the other stuff i think. why only 87% i should be at least 99%.
well, here i am, captain h2o in my home being told i need to do something about the fucking lung eating alien that may appear in walls. so i sign up for the special instillation under a nifty repayment plan, then the guy sees my guitar and asks to play it, he plays some love song, its good, not my cup of tea but he's got a great voice and knows chords and stuff and he's somehow related to peter knoppes and then we start chatting about travelling and fear and stuff. anyway he says he has to check the loft so up we go, a place i have yet to even look at, i must admit in my head it's filled with dead rats and spiderwebs and spiders that killed and ate the rats, but it's not so bad, although noticeably set up for some sort of nefarious activity, it's a freaking weed factory, or at least it was, the air con mould man says. 
i'm worried about this air mould man, i mean he's an air con mould man and gets me to sign up for an interest free payment plan that's actually quite reasonable. so then he leaves reluctantly, i think he just wanted to stay here, hang out but i had things to do, like the garden which i was internally committed to yet some other greater force was working against me full whack...
by now it was dusk, and 'the drum' started and i watched it with my critical political eye and it was the best episode ever, really intelligent discussion. the host annabel crabb was brilliant, usually i write in to critique the dumbness of the discussion and the panel but i have to say tonight was really good, it was more balanced in approach and reasonable yet highly intelligent debate between the guests, no dumbing down politically correct bullshit ideology,  like usual, today they were really just flowing naturally being fairly accurate in their critiques and deconstruction of the political reality. it was almost like they had awoken, saw it for what it was and enjoyed the whole unrestrained truth, krudd, was like the naked emperor in that children's fable. tony robot was exposed as having no personality yet highly committed to struggling australians, (he's a globalist though...)
anyway's i wrote in to congratulate them, it's about time they aired a decent episode.
er that's my long day.
oh yeah, steve wrote on my face book page about his cockles being warm, see what i mean? it's a strange but wonderful day. 
i didn't do any gardening, which was the plan.