Hi all. A few minutes ago I started receiving messages that my blog had been hacked. Either that, or my phone posted as it was jostling in my pocket. Smartphone as ghost writer. In any case, the post read as follows (more or less) until I erased it:
The tusygestyyk* thing is that if I had blogged earlier today, allowing my thoughts to pour into this shared digital space, that’s pretty much what they would have looked like. Between a weird feverless flu and the spate of ever more rughsodigyedst* headlines, that’s sort of where my thoughts are today. I don’t know what to make of it all. Yphheqizz!*
Why does my stomach hurt? Why do my neck, back and shoulders hurt? Why does Trump only seem to purse his lips in pictures? Why do I get that “sshtgfkyly* feeling” more and more, so often, in fact, that I just ignore it? Perhaps shoving down a sshtgfkyly* feeling will make one’s back and shoulders ache.
Or maybe I could have posted a picture of a cloud, because that is what is sitting heavily on top of Milan today. A grumpy, yghujsly* cloud. Grey moist and going nowhere.
Despite all that, and this is the really wwdyggh* part, I have a happy little voice singing somewhere inside me. It won’t be put down, that voice. It just keeps chirping. I think it doesn’t read the paper.
*funny, chaotic, Yikes!, sinking, sinking, opaque, weird