She is Quite the Psychic Every Day

Before I begin this entry onto one of the crumpled pages of the Martenblog, I shall do two things. Firstly, I shall list the ideas this entry should cover. Secondly, I shall go through the last eight bars of Memories of Tomorrow seventeen milliard, four hundred seven million, two hundred three thousand, thirty one times. Let it be known that this is a prime number. The transformation of flavigula.net into its corresponding Gohper site Progress on the album that is workingly called Bleary Snapshots My intense hatred of the plumpest humorist of our time Peiločja’s possessiveness Math The song that is stuck in my head and its ramifications Lee’s birthday Achieving “goals” before death Since I summoned five small pieces of toast from the niggulum and slathered them with ajvar and chopped not exactly ripe enough avocado, I shall begin writing before guitaring. Peiločja makes her characteristic short mew then slightly longer major fourth downward mew in response to my typed thoughts. She’s…