the tiger came again last night. not the dusty, tan sort of tiger, but a bright lemon yellow and jet black one, much like the ones that used to be on the cover of camel water colours. it had come into the house and i tried to shoo it away with some gardening tool and when it backed into the staircase, we shut the door and called the police. the irritating policeman (with a moustache) refused to believe that a tiger could come into a house in the city and i was extremely frustrated. for i could also sense how unbelievable it was, but it had happened.
then i don't remember much, but i was in my (another) white and dark blue and darkwood house with a big kitchen and glass windows and a garden. i knew if i went out through the door i'd get to the backyard which overlooks the sea. but i had to give them water first. it was very sunny oustide.
i woke up feeling terribly tired today.

it's not funny. i am dying. how can this cause so much mirth amongst so many different people? if i die, i'll come back and haunt everyone with a vengeance, i swear. today i produced multicoloured snot, copius enough to equal in snot-litres the yearly per capita water usage of some of those strife-ridden angsty ghetto-teenager type african nation.
and my mind indeed is dead. my body craves vegetable soup. like vegetables. not two-legged, four-legged, multi-legged, multi-boned creatures. vegetables. despite my attempts at reasoning, my recalcitrant body tried to drown itself in hot slimy liquid with green, orange, yellow and limp botanical exhibits, half of which i couldn't identify. there was some mushroom, some baby corn and something that looked pale green and ribbed and crunchy to eat in it too.
but before i log off and die (with fanfare, i don't think i'm the quiet, classy exit sort today) tell me what is the difference between mind and soul?

i have fever, backache, blocked nose, sore throat, a/an yearning to be a prima donna and order about everyone in a feeble voice and see their faces light up to see they can provide me with the slightest comfort like fluffy pillows and jimmy nail numbers and something drippy and cheesy.
instead i was made to do a story ideas session with the toad who's conveniently taking time off and going to nether ends of the world with everyone and everything including the tadpole's stuffed toy.
i was also made to drink warm milk and handed out a pill that i know has an expiry date marked 2006 and told not to be paranoid.
i have a good mind to throw a tantrum. if only my throat didn't hurt so.
i am a poor baby. i am a poor little baby. oh i am soooo sick (like ill, not that kind of sick) and suffering so much. i want fawning attention, cloying sympathy, a new rubic's cube and mtv to show that sania badnam number once more.

i am tired of stonewalling people. so now i am stonewalling my blog.