This would be the other Lynne who partakes in 'scrap-booking' and for who the cheque is in the mail after helping Eimear. The Lynne who gives out my Softhome address for people to email her. Although, given what I can make of her from misdirected emails, I don't think she'd complete any of my half poems to my liking.

Today as I was doing my regular Monday housework I really started to miss living by myself. I get on with me pretty reliably. There was never any frustration about me leaving my crap everywhere, or cooking some kind of sauce then leaving the pan unrinsed and sauce splattered all over the stove and floor. And if I was the only one that ever did any serious cleaning... that was a fair distribution of labour.

ANZAC Day. After hearing all the national identity fuss that goes on, I think Australians should take some time to also consider the New Zealanders in aNZac.

'Difficult' music is not really conducive to coaxing out the second bit of a poem... but I like my difficult music. I should start putting unfinished poems online with "something something"s to fill in any gaps. Generally I think of poems in a matter of seconds. They are just presented to me, pretty well 'done', by my brain. Sometimes I don't write them down quick enough, and it drives me batty if I get half way and can only recall the gist of the ending.

Life has a rhythm
like falling down stairs
with all of its cares
at the end in a
woe-begone heap
(like?) Motion gone wrong
(something) headlong
(something something
something something)

I was out having a smoke and all.

[Music: VNV Nation - Structure]